


Two & 1/2 Weeks

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Two Weeks & Something... [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy's a self-rescuing princess though, F/M, Kinda Weird, Slightly 90s Thriller Inspired, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Steve is Trying to Channel Howard Stark (Not Terribly Well), not HEA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-16 16:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16499099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Stood up on a first date, newly-relocated Darcy Lewis plans to go back to her apartment, do Jane's laundry, and eat Reese's Cups. If the blond man alone at the other table wasn't staring so intently. There's something challenging about his look.“Can I join you?” a low voice said. Darcy’s head jerked; the man had pulled back the opposite curtain and was facing her. How had he snuck over here?“I’m meeting someone,” Darcy said reflexively.“He’s not here,” the guy said, gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “I’ll leave when he shows.”“Are you always so pushy?” Darcy asked.“No,” he said, “but I wouldn’t stand a lady up, either.” He slid into the seat. “Steve,” he said.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!

“I could always go with you on Wednesday,” Darcy said to Jane.

“No, it’s okay, we’ll just be in Norway for two weeks, you should take a break. We’ve been traveling for years, Darce. This new job we’re starting at SHIELD is an opportunity for us to, I don’t know, have actual lives?” Jane said, smiling. They were sitting on the sofa in the brand-new apartment they shared. Thor smiled from the bar.

“Aye, you deserve a holiday, my Lightning Sister,” Thor said. “I will take Jane on this sojourn to Norway and we will give your regards to Erik Selvig and when we return, your new lab shall be ready.”

“All right,” Darcy said quietly. She hadn’t been alone--not strictly speaking--in years. Much less had two weeks of true vacation.

“Besides, what about your date with the guy from HelloMatch?” Jane said. “Now that we’re staying in one place, you can start seeing people. You haven’t dated anyone seriously since Ian and you broke up and I feel like it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. Besides this date with Kumal isn’t a big deal,” Darcy said. Kumal was a George Washington doctoral candidate in international relations that Darcy had been matched with online. They’d had a few funny conversations by text, then finally Kumal had asked her to meet him at a restaurant on Thursday night.

“Still, I think you should go,” Jane said.

 

***

The restaurant was really fancy. A French place with deep red walls and soft music playing called Bistro Cacao. The booths and tables were actually curtained. “I’m meeting a Kumal Rajani?” Darcy said at the hostess stand.

“I don’t think he’s arrived yet, but I can seat you,” the hostess offered.

“Yes,” Darcy said. She followed the hostess to a two-person booth and. She handed Darcy a menu. “Thank you, leave the curtains open, please?” Darcy said. She kept glancing at the door. A passing waiter stopped and lit the tea light on her table. “Thanks,” she repeated.

“You’re welcome. Would you like wine?” he said.

“Um, yes,” Darcy said, scanning the menu. “A glass of the Lost Angel Mischief blend?” She liked the sound of the name.

“Good choice,” the waiter said, leaving her alone again. She checked her phone. Kumal was ten minutes late. But ten minutes could be traffic. It was nothing. Her eyes were drawn to the big glass windows, following the people on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. None of them looked like a single man.

“Thank you,” Darcy said politely, when the waiter returned with her wine.

“Did you want to order?” he asked.

“I’m meeting someone, so it’ll be a few minutes,” Darcy said.

“Just wave me over,” he said.

“Thanks,” Darcy said. All around her, couples and tables full of people were talking. It was impossible not to eavesdrop when you were alone, even with the curtains.

“I told Bill that the kitchen renovations--”

“He wants the reports done in a different format, but it’s going to be complicated--”

“She’s getting married in December. I'm not a huge fan of winter weddings, so cold--”

 

Darcy checked her phone again. Eighteen minutes late. She was in the middle of a text to Kumal when she felt something, like a movement in her peripheral vision. Darcy looked over to the right, where tables ran perpendicular to her own. A handsome blond man was sitting at one curtained table, by himself, facing her. She could just see him through a space left where his table curtains were slightly ajar He was staring. Intently. He looked at her with such a focused gaze that it was almost unnerving. Darcy looked down. He must not realize she’d noticed. She flicked her gaze back up. He was still staring with those intense eyes. His expression changed slowly. There was a ghost of smile. Darcy leaned back, out of his view behind her own curtains, momentarily uncertain. There was something oddly challenging about his look. In a diner or a cheap restaurant, she would have said something smart-alecky or even yelled, “what, dude?” but this was a nice place. And she was waiting on Kumal. Five more minutes. She reached for her wine. The Mischief blend was good. She read her menu for as long as she could stand it. When she finally gave in and looked at the staring man again, his table curtains were pulled shut. She let out a little breath she’d been holding and looked back at her menu.

“Can I join you?” a low voice said. Darcy’s head jerked; the man had pulled back the opposite curtain and was facing her. How had he snuck over here?

“I’m meeting someone,” Darcy said reflexively.

“He’s not here,” the guy said, gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “I’ll leave when he shows.”

“Are you always so pushy?” Darcy asked.

“No,” he said, “but I wouldn’t stand a lady up, either.” He slid into the seat. “Steve,” he said.

“Darcy,” she said. Up close, he was astoundingly handsome. He gestured and the waiter appeared.

“The usual, Steve?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” he said politely. “What would you like, Darcy? The steak here is very good.”

“The mushroom ravioli, please,” she said.

 

“You come here a lot?” she said, once the waiter had stepped away. Steve closed the curtains. No one else had closed theirs, but she supposed he’d been here before, so they let him.

“I’m one of the regulars,” he said. “My apartment’s two blocks from here and I live alone, so it’s easy to stop by during the week after work. I tend to work late. Travel a lot.”

“Very casually done,” Darcy said, grinning.

“Oh, yeah?” he said.

“Clarifying that you’re unmarried and that your apartment is nearby,” she said. She’d already noticed the lack of a wedding band.

“Sure,” he said, smiling. But there was something intent in his expression. She felt a chill up her spine. He was looking at her, really looking. No one ever talked about how it was rare that anyone really looked at you; everyone was focused on their phones or televisions or their own internal thoughts. But Steve was looking at her, like she was a puzzle he wanted to take apart. Finally, he broke the long look to sip his drink. It looked like a whiskey, but he didn’t seem intoxicated.

 

“Are you going to tell me about yourself?” she asked, as they ate. He paused and looked up, with something mischievous in his expression.

“Why?” he said. “Did you want to engage in pointless small talk?”

“You don’t like small talk?” she said.

“I’ve lived in DC for four years, I’ve had my fill,” he said, slicing his steak and stabbing a piece with his fork. He gestured with the fork at Darcy. “Here the small talk is so small, you a need microscope to find anything meaningful.”

“You’re a cynic,” she told him.

“Not about everything,” he said.

“So, ask me a question with meaning,” she prompted.

“Would it make a difference, Darcy? In how you answer the real question?” He said her name with a soft emphasis.

“The real question?” she said, cupping her chin and raising an eyebrow.

“Would you like to come home with me tonight?” Steve asked. “All the rest of it is just pretense.”

“I thought it was more like negotiation?” she said, blushing in spite of herself. Get control, Darcy, she thought, you’ve had men try to take you home before. Maybe none this good-looking, but Ian was tall and handsome and British. That counted for a lot.

“What are we negotiating, then?” Steve said.

“You offer one dinner in exchange for one night, I counter that  three dates is the absolute minimum, we compromise on two?” she said.

“Two, huh?” he said.

“If you’re lucky,” she said.

“Lucky?” he said, grinning.

 

Kumal never showed, of course. Darcy found herself standing on the sidewalk outside the restaurant with Steve. She hadn’t even seen the bill. He’d insisted on paying. “I’m this way,” he said, half-turning. “Would you like to go this way?” Darcy thought about her empty and dark apartment. Her plan had been for a polite date with Kumal involving her making a lot of jokes and not talking about aliens (classified and also, too weird), maybe a kiss on the sidewalk if there was chemistry, then home to do Jane's laundry, watch _Dateline,_ and eat Reese’s Cups in bed.

“I--uh,” she said.

“You’re hesitating,” Steve said. “Does that mean you’re tempted?” He grinned.

“I could go that way,” she said. “If I was sufficiently tempted?”

“Yeah?” he said, cupping her face with his hands. His kiss was lingering and slow. Darcy was tempted.

 

So tempted that she found herself in his half-lit apartment, unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt as he kissed her. She pulled his shirt off and he scooped her up as if she weighed nothing. His muscles were firm and unusually warm to the touch, she realized, before he lay on her on his bed in the dark. He stripped her shoes, pants, and underwear  off more quickly than she thought possible. “Wait, Steve,” she said, as he removed his pants. “Condoms.”

“Got them,” he said, reaching for his nightstand and removing a foil packet. There was enough light from the hallway for her to make sure he was actually using it, thank God. He surprised her next by seizing the undersides of her thighs and pulling her down the bed a few feet, so that her thighs bracketed his lean waist. He didn’t crawl on top of her, as much as he moved over her smoothly, then pressed his weight down.

“Oh,” Darcy said, holding his shoulders, then running her hands down his bare chest. He was so warm and muscular and, well, bigger than her.

“You good?” he asked. She nodded and he leaned down to kiss her. She was so distracted by his mouth and the way he gently raked her own lips with his teeth, that his first thrust was a surprise. He hadn’t even taken her shirt off. She inhaled sharply. Steve was strong. “I’ll be gentler,” he said, smirking a little. “You’re tight, baby.”  

“No, no, don’t--” Darcy said.

“You sure about that?” he said. His eyes—blue with a touch of green in one—smoldered.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. He was challenging her, Darcy thought. She wouldn’t back down.

“Okay then.”

“Oh God,” she gasped. He’d been holding back before. He thrust his hips against her forcefully.

“Too much?” he asked.

“Not enough.” She wanted something more somehow.  He seemed to read the desire for sensation on her face and pulled her shirt off.

“Give me your hands,” he said. With their fingers intertwined, he pressed her arms up, so that her hands were next to her head. Darcy was pinned down. She arched her back, wiggling instinctively against his hold. “Push back,” he said intensely. “That’s all you got?” He chuckled. He was so strong, she was virtually powerless. His smirk pissed her off a little.

She dug her nails into his hands and he moaned. “Good,” he said.

“Flip me over,” Darcy said, seized by a crazy impulse.

“You want me to fuck you from behind?” he said, doing that little smirk again. She nodded.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Call me daddy,” he said teasingly.

“Absolutely not,” she said, grinning and shaking her head. He grinned back. He pulled out and away from her slightly, rolling her over by gripping one thigh. “Uhhhh,” she said, as he slid an arm around her belly to lift her and get her knees under her body. Then he pulled her backwards onto him and began pushing against her roughly again. She moaned.

“You like this?” he said. He slowed his thrusts to lay over her back slightly and whisper in her ear. “You like me mounting you? Your tight little pussy?”

She almost burst out laughing.  “Does that usually work?” she asked. His sexy talk was so canned and a little bit off-putting, she realized. He was way too young for the daddy crap, too.

“Sometimes.” His voice sounded wry.  He pushed harder again.

“Uh-huh,” she said, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing out loud. He might actually be hurt if he thought she was laughing about his performance. The sex wasn’t bad; it would be amazing if he didn’t say such cheesy, awkward things.

 

“Most women I meet like that. Not you?” he said later. He was hold her in the dark, tracing strange circles on her shoulder with his thumb.

“Oh, God, no.”

“No?” he said, sounding curious.

“My dad lives in South Carolina and we have a perfectly fine relationship,” Darcy said. “I’m not looking for a new daddy.” This wasn’t strictly true: she and Harold Lewis barely spoke and had never been close. Even less after the whole ‘elves and aliens’ deal had made large swathes of her life SHIELD-classified. It was one of the reasons dating was either difficult or boring (depending on her headspace-slash-mood). She had to lie about her job and what she’d been doing for the past four years or so. It would be way easier if she could tell the funny story about how the Warriors Three had popped down to visit Thor and they’d had to bail Fandral out of jail in Daytona Beach.

“Okay,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said casually. She’d forgotten what they were actually talking about, she was so busy internally laughing at the memory of Fandral greeting people as “good fellows” when they walked him out of the police station.  One cop had asked if he was Robin Hood.

 

When Darcy woke up, Steve was asleep with his broad, muscular back to her.  It was 5:43 am. Darcy never slept well in strange beds. She glanced around the bedroom.  It had zero personality and was suspiciously tidy for a single thirty-something who picked up women. No photos, nothing personal. She realized she knew absolutely nothing about Steve: not his last name, not his occupation, nothing. Maybe he was a drug dealer. But she’d imagined that even a drug dealer would have photos of his mother someplace. Jane always said she had an overactive imagination.

Actually, Jane would say a lot of things, starting with ‘ _oh my God, Darcy!’_ and ending with ‘ _I’ve only been gone twenty-four hours and you go home with a stranger? Do you want to be on 48 Hours?’_

Of course, Jane might be famous enough now that that if Steve murdered her and wrapped her in a shower curtain, she would be. The producers would salivate over the murder of a young white chick with a connection to Thor. The good thing was, they usually found the most flattering photos of you to show onscreen. There’d probably be a Lifetime movie. What would they call it? Probably something like _Obsessed: The Darcy Lewis Story._ Darcy got dressed without waking him and then locked the bottom lock on the door from the inside before she left his apartment. She would have locked the deadbolt had that been possible. It was just the right thing to do.

  
***

“You went home with _a stranger?_ ” Jane said, horrified, over the phone. She’d sent Darcy photos of her and Thor hiking. They looked happy.

“It’s okay, Jane, I’m not dead or anything. I’m calling from this astral plane and whatnot,” Darcy said. “I’m very glad Thor is getting you outside, you were getting lab-paleness again.”

“But you don’t even know his last name?” she said, not distracted by Darcy’s change of subject.

“And he doesn’t know mine. It was a one-time deal. I’m not in a 90s psychological thriller or _Nine and a Half Weeks_ , I’m going back to my real life and taking out the trash. I’ve got to go early vote and stuff,” Darcy said, pouring out some chocolate Cheerios into a bowl. “You know, these would be great with those tiny marshmallows. Tell Thor thank you.” He’d picked out some fun cereals for her before they left.

“I worry about you when you tell me things like this,” Jane said. “There are dangerous people out there. And you’re too pretty, Darce.”

“Isn’t it better than I tell you? Besides, you and Thor should totally have dinner at that French place. Also, why should me being pretty--thank you very much--matter?”

“Because some guy could get obsessed with you?” she said. “People do that. Totally normal people meet someone and get fixated. One day they’re an accountant who never got a speeding ticket and the next day, they’re that astronaut woman who was going to kill her ex’s new girlfriend.”

“Jane, Astronaut Lady was probably certifiable loooong before she strapped on that diaper for the long road trip, okay? I’m pretty sure,” Darcy said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bistro Cacao is a real DC restaurant with curtained tables. I feel like Steve would become a regular just so he could pull the curtains and eat without being gawked at (because there's lots of DC gossip about Captain America's real ID and people in the neighborhood know who he is?): http://bistrocacao.com/photo-gallery/
> 
> The opening scene of this is (loosely) inspired by a Goldie Hawn suspense movie from 1991 called "Deceived" that's streaming on Netflix right now. It's a great scene: Hawn is stood up by her blind date and then sees John Heard staring at her intently from across the restaurant. They look at each other for a while, she asks the waiter if he might be her blind date, the waiter comes back and says no, then Heard leaves....only to show up at Hawn's job and insist they met the year before. But did they?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All I wanted was just what everybody else wants, you know, to be loved."-- Rita Hayworth

Kumal had messaged her to apologize for missing their date; he’d had a family emergency and had to left town to visit a cousin in the hospital and forgotten to tell her. It sounded believable. He apologized several times. Darcy hesitatingly agreed to see him again, but this time insisted that it be a movie instead of dinner. There was a historic theater in DC--The Avalon--that she wanted to try, anyway. The Avalon was showing _Gilda_ and Darcy had never seen Rita Hayworth dance and sing (dubbed against her will by Columbia)  to “Amado Mio” on the big screen. It was one of her favorite Pink Martini songs, too. If he skipped out on her again, she would a.) never bother with him, even if he did write an interesting master’s thesis on nationalist identity politics along the Pakistani border  and b.) still get to wonder what the hell Glenn Ford’s character had been thinking. That had always puzzled her.

 

“I’m not really an old movie person,” Kumal told her as they chose seats at The Avalon. It had been built in the 1920s on Connecticut Avenue, a few blocks from Chevy Chase Circle. Darcy wanted to sit beneath the modern mural of Mercury with a reel of film. She thought it was cool.

“Oh, really? I love them. Have you seen the ceiling mural of Mercury?” she said, pointing up as more movie patrons filed in.

“That’s, uh, neat,” he said. They were early enough that the lights were still on and the movie didn’t start for fifteen minutes, so she asked him about his work on Pakistan. He told her about the primary research he’d been doing. It sounded interesting: monitoring the pamphlets of small political parties and cross-referencing them for keywords. He was doing a project with someone in the computer sciences to help him create a program to flag for terms. They would be able to create data maps more quickly than if he did it painstakingly by hand and then create data clouds. “What I’m really curious to see,” he said, “is if we can overlay the data portraits with geographic maps to see the physical spread of ideas. Of course, the obvious thing everyone asks is how terms move from terrorist websites and ISIS videos into more mainstream political culture.”

“How do you feel about that?” she asked him carefully. He was Pakistani-American; it wasn’t difficult to guess that he’d been asked a lot of asshole questions in his life, so she was trying not to add one more. He shrugged.

“I can’t change the world, I only make the word clouds,” he said. “But there is an interesting facet--” He was talking when a group of three people came down the aisle nearest Darcy. They were walking to sit two or three rows ahead of Kumal and Darcy, several feet to Darcy’s left, when her attention was drawn to the man in the middle.

“So, Steve, I’m going to like this Rita Hayworth chick, huh?” an African-American man was saying to him. Steve sat next to him.

“I think you will enjoy the film,” the last person in the group said. A beautiful redhead with a short bob tucked behind her ears. She was stunning.

“How could you not?” Steve said in a cheerful-sounding voice. She could only see half his profile because of the other man’s face, but Darcy was certain it was him. Same broad shoulders and blue jacket. The redhead sat next to Steve and whispered in his ear. It looked like they were a couple.

 

“So, what about you?” Kumal said, interrupting her spying. “You mentioned something about applying to grad school yourself?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Darcy said. “I’m interested in old movies, but from more of a cultural and aesthetic perspective, not a film studies one. I’d want to apply to a cultural studies program or maybe even a creative writing program and do non-fiction as my field.”

“An aesthetic perspective?” Kumal said. “What kind of aesthetic perspective?”

“Well”--this was the difficult part to explain--”I’m primarily interested in the cultural influence of stars’ hair and makeup. Why certain actresses become famous for their hairstyles or a signature look and what that meant  or means to the people watching. Because people still copy those looks today, it’s just more of a subculture.”

“Oh,” Kumal said. “Like your hair and makeup?” She’d done pin curls and red lipstick just for fun tonight. Darcy thought he looked subtly disappointed. People made that face at her a lot when she told them she wanted to study decades-old hair and makeup academically.

“Um, yeah. It’s sort of like cultural identity construction, instead of national identity?” she offered. She’d been hoping Kumal would _get_ it. Most people did not get it. Jane tried, bless her, but her idea of hair and makeup was an elastic and chapstick, so she got confused when Darcy went off on tangents about how they’d done Bette Davis’s transformative makeup in _Dark Victory_. Kumal was looking at her confusedly, too, so Darcy barreled on. “Take Rita Hayworth in this movie tonight. This is her signature look--the one she’s most famous for--to the point that she basically called it a trap. She said men wanted Gilda, not her,” Darcy said.

“Yeah?” he said, furrowing his brow.

“But that image was really a construction. Most of those old star images were carefully crafted by studios. Hayworth was naturally dark-haired. Her studio, Columbia, actually made her get electrolysis on her forehead to raise her hairline and bleached and dyed her hair red, whether she liked it or not,” Darcy explained. “They changed her name, monitored her weight, everything.”

“They made her get electrolysis?” he said, shocked.

“Yeah,” she said. “The studio contracts back then were incredibly restrictive. The studios had total control. If you refused to do a film, they could suspend you for a period, then actually add those months onto the back end of the contract. They did it to guys who went off to fight in World War II, even. Movie stars got back from serving their country and were told they still owed, like, MGM or Columbia six months for the time they spent getting shot at.”

“Whoa,” he said. “That’s crazy. Any other weird stories?”

“Yeah, it’s wild. Well, for me, the big story is _The Lady from Shanghai._ Rita Hayworth did this movie that I love called _The Lady from Shanghai_ in 1948 with her estranged husband Orson Welles. I have this theory that they were both trying to break her out of the Gilda trap. Welles cut and dyed her hair blonde, so she could play an off-type character, a villain. It didn’t work out,” Darcy said.

“Why not?” Kumal said.

“The movie flopped and the studio blamed it on Hayworth’s makeover. It’s the saddest thing, Harry Cohn---he was the head of Columbia Studios--gave this quote to _Life_ magazine even before the movie came out and said, “Everyone knows the most beautiful thing about Rita is her hair.” Like that was all she was,” Darcy said, doing air quotes around the Cohn line. “Like she was a freaking dancing monkey or something.”

“Wow,” Kumal said. “This upsets you?” He looked faintly amused.

“Yep, it’s something about how dismissive and marginalizing it was,” she said. “And Cohn was a monster. She said later that she thought he’d actually bugged her dressing room.”

“Could he have done that?” Kumal asked.

“He was notorious for bullying his stars and treated her like property, it’s highly possible. But don’t get me started or I’ll start going on about this movie she did with Sinatra called _Pal Joey_ where I think Cohn made her play a has-been performer on purpose,” Darcy said, grinning.

“Okay,” Kumal said, chuckling.

“Cohn wouldn’t even let her take singing lessons, he made her be songs be dubbed in this movie, even though she wanted to try singing. You’ll see, she was incredibly talented,” Darcy said, reaching for some of her popcorn. She looked up at the screen and saw some movement in her peripheral vision. She realized Steve was looking over his shoulder at her directly. When they made eye contact, he turned back quickly. It was a dismissive turn, Darcy thought. The redhead leaned back for a moment and looked at Darcy curiously, then returned her attention to the screen as the lights went out.

 

 _Gilda_ was a good enough movie that Darcy almost forgot she was a few feet from her stranger danger hook up. She would have had an easier time if Steve would stop glancing back at her occasionally. It was like he was trying to catch her eye. She was fairly certain that his redheaded girlfriend--if that’s what she was--was going to kick his ass later. But Darcy could ignore him. Plus, she loved the scene later in the movie where Ballin Mundson--Gilda’s scary Nazi husband--gave that frightening speech about only being excited by hate. She didn’t want to miss it. It was shot in half-shadow, so you felt real fear for Rita Hayworth as her husband spoke. Her dress glittered in the dark and he leaned over her, just whispering. There was no actual violence, which somehow made it more nerve-wracking. It wasn’t until the scene was actually over that she realized Kumal had fallen asleep. She hoped he wouldn’t snore. Who nodded off when Ballin Mundson was _Ballin Mundsoning_ up there? Darcy shook her head. Kumal was definitely not second date material. She turned her head back to the screen and realized Steve was smirking at her in her peripheral vision. She arched an eyebrow at him in the dark and met his gaze. He turned back to the screen, still grinning.

 

After the movie ended, Kumal apologized several times for falling asleep. “It’s all right, really, it’s not your thing,” Darcy said. She was trying very hard not to look at Steve now that the lights were up. Steve apparently had no such objection; he grinned and nodded at her as Kumal was apologizing another time and he and his friends (?) were rising out of their seats. Darcy was sure he was going to stop and say something, but the three of them filed past her without pausing, although Darcy was certain that the beautiful redhead gave her a cool, assessing look. When Darcy stood to accompany a still-chagrined Kumal out of the theater, they had already disappeared through the door at the end of the room. Well, Darcy thought, there’s your obvious sign of disinterest right there. They were crossing the lobby when Darcy realized Steve was standing the doorway of the little attached cafe. The redhead was standing in front of him, hands on her hips. Darcy was just in time to hear what sounded like the beginnings of a fight. “--that girl you were looking at during the movie?” she was saying to Steve. He was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Steve’s expression abruptly changed when he saw her. She was totally not interrupting that, Darcy thought. Redhead looked fit enough to kick her ass.

 

She and Kumal walked out of the theater and onto the sidewalk. “Oh, I’ll walk you to your car,” Kumal offered.

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Darcy said. “I’m just around the corner.”

“It’s only polite, really,” Kumal said, following her. She’d made the mistake of asking about his research as they left the theater and he was still eager to talk. “---oh, wow,” he said, breaking off a complicated anecdote about data as they rounded the next corner and Darcy hit the unlock button on Jane’s car. “This is your car?” Kumal asked, sounding stunned as he looked at the Jeep Wrangler. “It’s, uh, tall.”

“It’s my roommate’s car, she has a very tall boyfriend. He’s part Viking,” Darcy joked, as she walked around the elevated Jeep. It was black and painted with emerald Asgardian runes along the sides. Loki had done them magically for Thor, swearing they were protective in nature, and also made some customizations to the dash that Darcy didn’t really want Kumal to see. Or touch. Really, no touch. Touch bad. “I had to learn to scale it, like the mountains and the fjords,” Darcy joked as she opened the door and planted her foot on the shorties step-slash-ledge Thor had added to the driver’s side for her and Jane. She hauled herself inside. Darcy preferred the Metro, but last night Jane had made her promise she’d start taking the car instead. Jane thought it was safer. She let Kumal keep talking as she strapped herself into the Jeep’s off-roading harness.

 

*** 

“Huh,” Sam Wilson said as he got in his car. He’d left Steve and Nat inside. They’d ridden together. It was too bad Steve was missing the crazy Jeep parked in front of his vehicle. A guy was talking to whoever was driving it, craning to look into the driver’s side window. When he cranked his car, the light from his headlights made the car’s weird paint job seem to glow for a second. It had customized license plates, too. He liked trying to figure them out. “SLPNIR2,” he read out loud. “I wonder what that means? Sleep in Ireland Too?”

 

***

 

“Well--,” Darcy began, once she was buckled in.

“I’m sorry. I love talking about my work. I’ll let you go,” Kamal said cheerfully. Darcy waved at him and he went around the front of the Jeep and then disappeared around the corner. Darcy cranked Sleipnir the Second and then pulled into the street. She wasn’t used to the Jeep, so she didn’t feel comfortable doing a u-turn; instead she drove a block and made a right to return to Connecticut Avenue in a few blocks. As she was driving back down Connecticut, Darcy passed the the theater again.

 

“Hey,” Steve said, looking up as the Jeep drove past the Avalon and he saw Darcy behind the wheel. “Follow that Jeep.”

“What?” Nat said, looking at him. They were getting into her sportscar near the theater.

“I need you to follow that Jeep, Romanoff,” he said. “Right now.”

“All right,” Nat said, buckling her seatbelt and turning the key. “Can I go fast?”

“Yes,” Steve said.

“Do you know her?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“How?” Nat said.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. She pressed the brake and slowed slightly, swiveling her head to look at him. She raised her eyebrow a fraction.

“I am upset when you keep things from me,” she said.

“Romanoff--” Steve said sternly. It was almost a growl.

“Someone’s upset, too,” Nat said. “You do know her.” She accelerated again.

“Dammit,” Steve said, as they hit a red light and she had to stop.

“Captain, language,” Nat said, smirking. The Jeep was several blocks ahead. “We’ll catch up.”

 

***

Darcy hit speed dial and put her phone on speaker. “Hey, Darce!” Jane said brightly. “How was your date?”

“Jane,” Darcy said, “I think someone is following me. The same car for several blocks. They’re trying to catch up with me, so I’ve sped up and turned several times and they’re still following. I used Loki’s button for the license plate, too. It’s a little sportscar, I think? It looks low to the ground.”

“Holy shit,” Jane said. “Use the big button, Darce.”

“I’m in DC traffic. Even at night, there are people around, it’s going to look weird if I just suddenly go invisible,” Darcy said. “Plus, I’m not sure--can I trust Loki’s enchantments to work without someone driving right into me? I feel like that’s a real flaw in our emergency planning, now that I’m utilizing plan A.”

“Thor is getting Loki,” Jane said.

“How?” Darcy asked.

“He has a phone,” Jane explained. “He’s mastered phones and--.”

“Ahhh!” Darcy shrieked, hitting her break a little reflexively. Loki had shimmered into being in her passenger seat.

“Hello, it’s nice to see you as well,” he said wryly. “Jane, despite that ear-splitting shriek, Darcy is very much alive and well. What appears to be the problem?”

“I need a plan B. Can you make a button to change the make and model of this car as it’s moving?” Darcy said.

“There are no limits to my magic, Darcy,” he said.

“No limits?” she said skeptically.

“If I fail, it is a failure of imagination,” he said, snapping his fingers. A new green button appeared on her dash. “How do you feel about the films of Steve McQueen?” he asked Darcy.

 

***

“I cannot read the license plate. Can you?” Natasha asked, tapping the steering wheel. Tap-tap-tap.

“No,” Steve said. “It’s...fuzzy? Why is it fuzzy?” He frowned. Trying to make the words clear by narrowing his eyes was oddly painful. But his vision was perfect? He shook his head and tried again. Nothing.

“Somehow, she is just out of range,” Nat said. “It’s like we get every red light.”

“She just turned left up there,” Steve said. Nat turned left. The only car ahead of them was low and dark green, accelerating quickly through the next light.

“That’s a 1968 Dodge Charger, the one Steve McQueen drove,” Nat said. She hadn’t noticed it before. Had it come from a side street?

“Make a u-turn. I want to see if she pulled off somewhere,” Steve said. They went slowly past all the businesses.

“Where the hell is she?” Steve said.

“You are behaving very oddly,” Natasha told him. “Tell me what is going on.”

“All right,” Steve said, sighing. “You know how everyone thinks I’m--well--a monk?”

“A virgin,” she corrected.

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head.

“So?” she asked. “Are you?”

“Sometimes, I, uh, hook up with women who don’t know who I am. I just pretend to be someone else,” he said.

“Who?” she said curiously.

“Not another person,” he said. “Just someone who goes to bed with women they barely know and isn’t a circa 1917 Catholic about it...well, maybe there’s a little Howard Stark. He was always good with women--however temporarily.”

"Like Tony," Natasha supplied. 

"Yes," Steve said. "Exactly like that."

"So, you never see them again, I take it?" she said.

"Nope," he said.

“Do you give them a bracelet, too?” she asked.

“A bracelet?” Steve said, confused.

“I read Howard’s files once. He used to give the women he’d slept with a diamond bracelet,” Nat said. “The Stark Special.”

“That’s an interesting touch, I bet they appreciated the gesture,” Steve said sarcastically.

“Oh, yes. One of them confronted him later and slapped him across the face with it. Diamonds scratch,” Nat said. Steve laughed, then turned serious.

“How did someone lose us?” Steve wondered.

“Why not just call her?” Nat asked.

“I don’t know her last name or her number. She left before I woke up,” he said.

“Maybe she is HYDRA?” Nat said.

“Not funny, Natasha,” Steve said.

 

***

“Woooooooo!” Darcy said, laughing. “They made a u-turn. They don’t realize this is the same car. I can’t believe they didn’t catch us.”

“I magicked the stoplights,” Loki said.

“High five!” Darcy said. “I love this  _Bullitt_ car, by the way. Can we get the tires off the ground?”

“I think we should make an attempt,” Loki said.

“Awesomesauce,” Darcy said, “I know a place.”

“I am ready. Only you will die if things go badly, after all,” Loki said.

“Not cool, dude, not cool,” Darcy told him. He winked. “Can you magic this so it plays any song? Like Pink Martini with Storm Large?” she asked. He nodded. The sound of Pink Martini’s _“Până când nu te iubeam_ ” filled the car.

“Oh, I do like that,” he said. “It’s very dramatic.”

“It’s Romanian,” Darcy explained. “It translates as “Before I Fell In Love With You,” I think?”

“You know, I think I have heard it before,” he said.

“On Midgard?” she asked.

“Asgard. When Captain Rogers brought that friend of his to seek treatment from the healers, Sergeant Barnes? He played this song. His grandmother was Romanian or somesuch,” Loki said. “The Eir believed music might help recover his memories.”

“Bucky Barnes speaks Romanian?” Darcy wondered out loud. She’d only heard about the Winter Soldier, like most of the Avengers. She’d met Tony Stark once. It had been memorable.

“I do not know how you Midgardians manage all these nationalities, it seems quite tiresome for such little distinctions,” Loki said.

“I should introduce you to my date,” Darcy said. “He’s getting a PhD in a national identity, basically.”

“Just one?” Loki said. “The things you get degrees in are also utterly baffling. Years of effort out of your limited, fragile lives, just to be the world’s secondary expert on a tree frog.” Darcy laughed.

“Don’t give that speech to Jane,” she cautioned.

“Imagine the misery of the world’s twelfth-most expert in the tree frog?” he mused.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Amado Mio number from "Gilda" (I really wish Hayworth had gotten to do her own singing, bless her): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0d1C1qQ_VoI
> 
> Pink Martini's version of Amado Mio with Storm Large (she's this incredible live!): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sCbzWiJLVhk
> 
> Pink Martini's Romanian song, Până când nu te iubeam (Before I Fell in Love With You): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0zzvfUDMfHc
> 
> The Romanian & English lyrics: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/pana-cand-nu-te-iubeam-i-fell-love-you.html


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got my mojo workin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

“Play Elvis’s “Got My Mojo Workin’,” she told the car, as they made a right and pulled up to a  darkened automatic gate. Darcy looked across the Triskelion Bridge. The bridge was half-lit. The radio complied with her request: suddenly, she heard Elvis making a joke before the song started. That meant it was the master track. 

“It don’t take much to spark you guys off, does it?” Elvis said from the speakers. He was talking to his band, of course.

“Nope,” Darcy replied out loud, on the off-chance Elvis could hear her, wherever he was, since the car didn’t exist, technically. Loki looked at her dubiously, then up at the bridge. It was a long bridge.

“We can get in there?” Loki asked.

“Key card access already works, nobody will recognize a Dodge Charger, and the license plate is still fuzzed,” Darcy said wickedly. She swiped her card and the gate went down. Even the tire spikes dropped.  “Let’s see how fast mama can go from 0 to 60?” She winked at Loki and revved the engine a little. “You ready?” She turned up the music.

“Of cour----ahhhhhh! I may have miscalculated!” Loki said, as his body jolted back against the seat and Darcy squealed tires.

“Hahaha!” Darcy slamming on the brakes and doing a donut. “This thing is so responsive!”

“May I remind you that we are on a  _ bridge _ ?” he said. 

“So?” Darcy said. “We go airborne, you can turn us into a boat, right?”

“Curse your infernal mind,” he muttered. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“Let’s go again. I want to get to a hundred miles an hour,” she said.

“I am going to close my eyes,” Loki said, looking paler. Darcy didn’t know he could do that. She revved the engine again and he tensed. She paused. Revved again. Paused. “Will you just commence with killing us already?” he snapped.

“Okey-dokey,” Darcy said. She hit the gas. 

  
  


***

“What does Fury want to meet with us about?” Steve said to Natasha.

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to be the person he’s unhappy with,” she told him as they got off the elevator at the Triskelion. “He wants us downstairs in the control room.”

 

The techs were all talking and tapping their keyboards. They appeared to be running traffic scans. 

“Dodge Charger, emerald green, model year 1968--” one was saying.

“Paint job looks custom--”

“Two occupants, identity unknown, no physical description available--”

“No, we don’t have a license plate--”

 

“Here you are,” Fury said, spotting Natasha and Steve.

“What’s happened?” Steve said. “HYDRA?”

“We had a level 5 security breach last night,” Nick Fury said. “Klein, cue up the video for Rogers and Romanoff.” They watched as a car zoomed up and down Triskelion’s Bridge and squealed tires. At one point, the car went airborne. Steve and Natasha stared.

“Well, that’s impressive,” Natasha said. “What did they sabotage?” 

“Nothing that we know of, but they must have used an official SHIELD card to raise that damn gate,” Fury said. “We can’t even get a good shot of them, those camera angles were non-working last night. For two hours. A very specific two hours.”

“Will you play it again for me?” Steve asked Cameron quietly. He was looking intently at the footage looping on Cameron’s screen.

“Sure, Cap,” Klein said.

“Sir, I’ve isolated audio--” a female tech said.

“Do you have voices?” Fury barked. “Male? Female?”

“It’s uh, well, sir,” she said. “It’s music.” She tapped a few buttons. 

“Is that who I think it is?” Fury asked. He was very calm. “Someone broke into our complex to race on the bridge and play Elvis goddamn Presley?”

“It’s the title track from  _ Follow that Dream _ , sir,” Cameron Klein said nervously. “My grandma loved Elvis.”

“We have multiple tracks on the footage. They played “Suspicion,” too,” the female tech said. “Do you think it could be a code, sir?”

“I want everyone to be alert for future incursions. Next time it could be much wors---Rogers, why are you looking like that?” Fury said.

“Sir, if Romanoff and could have a minute to speak with you, uh, alone, I might have relevant information,” Steve said.

  
***  
  


“Let me see if I’ve got this right, Cap?” Fury said, looking at Steve from behind his desk. The three of them had gone to Fury’s office. “You’re having sex with women whose names you don’t know. You see one of these women at the movies. You and Romanoff decide to follow this particular woman in what you describe as a large Jeep with fuzzy license plates--”

“Just like the license plates on the Charger,” Steve said quietly.

“Uh-huh. This woman and her Jeep somehow elude you  _ by turning a corner _ and you subsequently spot an emerald-green 1968 Dodge Charger that exactly matches the one from last night’s incident speeding away?” Fury said.

“Yes, sir. The color is identical,” Steve said. “That green is fairly distinctive.”

“Uh-huh. I bet Steve McQueen would love this story, but I’m not happy, Rogers. Where’s your ID?”

“Right here,” Steve said, sliding it across the desk. “I still have it.”

“It’s possible to replicate those with card readers,” Natasha said quietly. “Which she could have done--”

“While your dumbass was sleeping,” Fury said.

“Sir, I don’t think she would--” Steve began. “She’s really a nice woman.”

“And you know this how? You can’t even give me a name, Rogers,” Fury said.

“I have a first name--” Steve began.

“Don’t waste my time,” Fury said. “Do you know how many 5’3 brunettes there are in the world?” Steve had stumbled through a physical description, sounding oddly strained.

“There’s just one thing,” Natasha said.

“Yes?” Fury asked. Steve looked at Nat.

“When we saw her, she was alone. Who is the second passenger?”

“Maybe she picked somebody up. Apparently, she does that,” Fury said. Steve flinched.

 

“Where are you going, Steve?” Nat asked, after they’d left the office.

“To hit a few things,” he said.

“I don’t understand your anger,” Nat said. “Why are you angry?”

“That was intensely humiliating, Romanoff. My work life and my private life--things are separate, okay? They ought to be separate. I think I’ve earned that. I don’t take the shield to bed with me,” he said.

“I imagine there are some things you could do with it,” she said slyly.

“Don’t joke,” he said.

“You don’t want to hear my sex swing idea? I’ve been behaving, thinking you were as pure as Russian vodka and hadn’t kissed anyone since FDR was alive,” Nat said. “Do you really think she cloned your ID card?”

“I have no idea,” he said. Then he shook his head. “No.”

“No?” Nat said.

“She didn’t steal my ID card,” he said firmly.

“Still doesn’t explain how she switched cars in the middle of the street,” Nat said.

“There was a second person waiting for her with the Charger and we just missed where they dumped the Jeep?” Steve said. Natasha shrugged.

  
***

 

Fury called in Maria Hill. “I want you to put an internal APB out on two vehicles: one, a Jeep Wrangler. Black. With green decals or a skin or some shit. Two, a 1968 Dodge Charger, emerald green. I can send photos of that one. License plate unknown. Possible driver female, brunette, 5’3, between 25-34, approximate weight 130 lbs,” he said. “Keep this quiet, understood? It’s a Golden Boy issue. Some girl Steve hooked up with.”

“Why is this a SHIELD issue, sir?” Maria asked.

“Because she did motherfucking donuts on my motherfucking bridge,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Hill said.

“Probably after she stole Cap’s ID,” Fury said. “She and another  _ unknown _ companion decided that our bridge would be a great place to go joyriding.”

 

 

***

 

Fueled by their joyride, Darcy and Loki decided to take a road trip. “I am bored on Asgard,” Loki told her. “I want to go to one of your fun, tacky places.”

“My what?” Darcy said.

“Those places you’ve gone with my brother? Graceland, Dolly Forest, the ones with the fried Oreos—” he said.

“Dollywood,” Darcy corrected. 

“Is that not what I said?” he asked.

“I’m going to ignore your condescension and take you to Tennessee, because I believe in rewarding good behavior,” Darcy said. It was her primary Jane-wrangling trick, actually.

 

***

 

“Which suit looks best to you?” Loki asked. He’d been magicking himself into green versions of various Elvis jumpsuits for the last half hour. They’d vetoed a green version of Elvis’s gold lamé suit as “too St. Patrick’s Day.”

“Try the  _ That’s the Way It Is _ jumpsuit where he does “Suspicious Minds,” that’s a good one,” she told him. 

“All right,” he said. He’d been doing Youtube searches with his phone. He was much better than Thor with technology. 

“We could still go to Dollywood,” Darcy told him, switching lanes on I-81 in the Charger.

“Oh?” Loki said.

“They’re both in Tennessee,” she explained.

“How curious. Both of them? Perhaps there is something in the water that produces good singers who are fond of sequined garments,” he said.

“Everybody likes sequined garments,” Darcy said.

“No, I believe that is just you,” he said.

“Phhfft,” Darcy said, but then she was distracted by something in her rearview mirror. “This asshole in the black SUV is totally riding my ass. I always feel tempted to slow down when people do that.”

Loki turned and looked back. It looked like one SUV was following them very closely. Then, suddenly,  several more pulled out from behind the first one and sped up to flank them. In a matter of seconds, they were surrounded. There was an armed man visible in the back window of the SUV in front of them.

“Uh-oh,” Loki said. 

“Go get Thor,” Darcy told him, effectively boxed in.

“And leave you here?” he said.

“I can’t do get help,” she said grimly.

“Please halt your vehicle. We are federal authorities,”  someone said over a bullhorn. She realized the vehicle in front of her had fed plates. Darcy rolled down her window and looked at the passenger in the SUV riding to her left. He was wearing a nondescript suit and sunglasses.

“Which federal authorities?” she yelled.

“SHIELD!” he yelled back, flashing a badge.

“All right!” Darcy said, giving him a thumbs up. He stared at her. She looked at Loki. “They must have had more cameras on the Bridge,” she said, sighing.

"How vexing," Loki said.

“I’ll pull off at the next exit ramp!” she yelled out the window. The agent nodded.

 

She’d put the Charger in park and Elvis’s “It’s Now or Never” was playing on the radio as a phalanx of agents approached her window. She had her window rolled down. “Hello,” she said cheerfully as the first agent leaned down and looked at them. “I’m Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster’s assistant--”

“Loki!” the agent yelled and everyone suddenly drew their guns.

“Are they always so tiresome?” Loki said. He rolled his eyes and disappeared.

“Where the fuck did he go?” the agent said, looking around in a panic. Darcy shrugged.

“He probably fled. I don’t think his jumpsuit’s bulletproof,” she said. 

“Shit,” the agent said. “Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with most of my AUs where Jane & Darcy work for SHIELD, the HYDRA Uprising was caught more quickly, the building didn't collapse, Pierce went to jail, Bucky was rescued, and there were waaaay less loyal HYDRA agents than onscreen, so we've got a few familiar faces in the next chapters who you can presume are/were Triple!Agents and not baddies. 
> 
> If you don't remember the Bridge, it's the one Cap escapes on in CA: TWS: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIZSSKGcHmU
> 
> Elvis's version of "Got My Mojo Workin'" with that joke is this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u5zNa-5LTGE


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too Much Monkey Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

“Why don’t you be honest for a second, Steve?” the SHIELD therapist said wryly. “We’re all out of punching bags.” They were sitting in her office. Steve had been paged on his way to the SHIELD gym. Steve had been seeing Dr. Kelly for several years. Not by choice.

“You think Captain America would lie, ma’am?” Steve said back, smiling his PSA smile. 

“We’ve been meeting like this for years now, Steve. Drop the ‘aw, shucks, ma’am’ routine and tell me why Fury called me this morning and asked me to explain why there was no documentation of your quote-unquote sexually-risky behaviors in my files?” she said.

“Golly gee, when you ask like that, I really want to discuss my private life,” Steve said, dropping the smile.

“Why not tell me about your private life, Steve? You haven’t discussed anything meaningful with me since Mr. Barnes’ rehabilitation was successful,” she noted.

“It won’t be a private life anymore if I bring it into work, that’s the entire point,” he said, shaking his head. “I did appreciate your help with Bucky. But I understand the situation I’m in.”

“Yes?” she prompted.

“I’m a children’s cartoon. I’m not _supposed_ to have a private life,” he said.

“That’s what you think?” she said.

“It would be much more convenient for SHIELD if Captain America had the anatomy of a Ken doll,” he said dryly.

“Is that why you requested information on vasectomies last year?” she said quietly. She’d double-checked his medical files after Fury’s phone call.

“When you have phony seventy-four year old children coming out of the woodwork, it starts to make you a little paranoid about your birth control,” he said, flexing his fingers on the chair arm.

They’d vetoed the vasectomy, of course. His healing properties meant the procedure likely wouldn’t have the success rate it would for a normal man. One of the lab techs had been quietly tasked by Steve’s physician with making some extra durable condoms. SHIELD gossip had speculated the condoms were for the randiest of the STRIKE guys. Nobody even suggested Cap.

“Do you think you’re paranoid, Steve?” she said, interrupting his train of thought. He shrugged. The therapist waited a beat. Steve avoided her gaze.

“In the nursing home, Peggy used to tell me this joke sometimes,” he said finally.

“Oh, yes?” The therapist raised an eyebrow. He’d talked about Peggy some after she’d passed away in her sleep, but not in the last year or so.

“You’re not paranoid if they’re really out to get you,” Steve said. 

“Do you think people are out to get you?” she asked.

“It has a pretty wide range of applications in my life, yeah.” He looked sideways. She thought his jaw looked a little tight.

“So, you resent those children?” she asked carefully.

“No, no. Not the ones that really believe I’m their father. There are some con artists, but most of them are pretty nice people who were told that decades ago. I assume that their mothers did it to protect them, too. I was in the ice at the time. Maybe it’s better to give your kid a dead hero for a father than a live deadbeat. Or worse,” he said, rubbing his neck.

“Worse?” she said.

“An abuser, a drug addict…” he said trailing off. “A bad man. I was a good man. A conveniently dead good man.”

“Is there a reason you’re referring to yourself as a good man in the past tense?” she asked. He sighed heavily.

“What happens in my private life--it’s not ideal,” he said. “I realize what I’m doing isn’t honest. Not technically.”

“What is it about what you’re doing that makes you feel so conflicted?” she said.

“I don’t know,” Steve said.

“Really?” she said. He leaned forward and rubbed his face with both hands, then sat back up.

“I wanted to help people, stop bullies. I cared so much then. It felt _easier_ to care back then. Maybe Buck’s right, it was because I had something to prove. Now I’ve proved it,” he said. “And I feel exhausted. Not physically. Emotionally.”

“The work you do is demanding and stressful,” she told him. “Maybe you need a break, Steve?”

“What, like a vacation?” he said, grinning cynically. He’d taken vacations: road trips on his bike, visits to the Grand Canyon, seen Bucky in Wakanda. Nothing changed. When he came back, he was still expected to be the chipper dancing monkey telling kids to stay off drugs. A guy with serum in his DNA! Bucky had found that particularly hilarious.

“Yes.”

“Does it matter? Wherever I go, whatever I do….” he trailed off. There was a long pause. The therapist looked at him and waited.

 

“When I met Erskine at that recruitment center, I never thought I’d still be wearing the tights in 2018,” he said finally.

“Will you consider taking a vacation?” she asked.

“I think our time is up,” Steve said, gesturing to the clock over his shoulder.

“Isn’t that my line?” she said, as he stood and picked up his jacket.

“Possibly,” he said. He got to the door, then stopped. “I do know one thing. The woman I slept with that Fury’s worried about isn’t HYDRA,” he said.

“She’s not? How can you be sure?” the therapist asked.

“Nobody in HYDRA would have ever called Harry Cohn a bully,” Steve said. He’d heard everything Darcy said about Rita Hayworth. It had been what made him want to talk her again.

“Who is Harry Cohn?” the therapist wondered, once he was gone.

 

***

 

“Phil! You’re here!” Darcy said, delighted, when he came into the interrogation room where they’d been holding her. “I didn’t think they’d send the Bus.”

“We were on a special op in Murfreesboro. Alien artifact cult,” Phil explained, looking slightly surprised as Darcy leapt up to hug him. He ran a secret-secret SHIELD unit called The Bus now, Darcy knew. Phil had had gone off the grid after New York (there were rumors that Fury had supposedly spun off more units for emergencies after they discovered and quashed a HYDRA-within-SHIELD thing. Luckily, a bunch of the HYDRA recruits had been triple agents and loyal to SHIELD. Thor had mentioned that he thought Clint Barton’s retirement was fake, but Clint was steadfastly insisting to Thor that he only ran tractors now. Darcy really didn’t bother keeping it all straight. Her job was care and feeding of Janey the Brainy).

“I keep trying to tell these Memphis field office guys who I am, but they won’t believe me. They keep asking which known Loki associate I am and naming alien women I don’t know,” Darcy said. “I really thought Proxima Midnight was a goth band.”

“About that,” Phil said, “I didn’t know this was you. Nobody knew who you were.”

“Really?” Darcy said, puzzled. “Yup, it’s me. Me and Loki.”

“Where is Loki? The agents say he ‘disappeared’ during your arrest?” Phil asked.

“Oh, he would never leave me alone. He’s here, he’s just invisible,” Darcy said, pointing over her shoulder. For a fraction of a second, Loki appeared, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, then shimmered into invisibility again.

“I’m going to ask you not to do that,” Phil said.

“Suit yourself,” Loki said, appearing in the chair next to Darcy. Phil shook his head. “I have apologized for stabbing you. Several times.”

“And I’ve never accepted that apology,” Phil said.

“I wish you guys would patch things up, so you can both come to my next birthday party. I’m having pistachio ice cream cake. Don't you like pistachio?” Darcy asked hopefully.

“No,” Phil said.

“Is it green?” Loki asked.

“Of course,” Darcy said. He smiled happily.

“Excellent,” he said.

“We need to focus on why I’m here, Darcy,” Phil said.

"Okay," she said.

“You took a joyride on the bridge and, uh—God, this is difficult to ask,” Phil said.

“It was a trifle, really,” Loki said.

“What laws did we actually break? It wasn’t breaking and entering, or even legally a road. I checked. The bridge belongs to SHIELD, legally-speaking, not the district. It falls under the jurisdiction of internal SHIELD security. It has no posted speed limit. Anybody can do donuts on private property, if they’re allowed,” she pointed out. “Like driving on your grandparents’ farm.”

“See? Very reasonable,” Loki said, nodding.

“Possibly, the Elvis violated a noise ordinance, but the DC statutes are very poorly written,” Darcy admitted.

“Darcy,” Phil said. “This is not what I’m here about.”

“It’s not?” she said. He shook his head--opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“I’m here about Captain America’s ID card. The one you stole?” he said.

“No, I didn’t,” Darcy said. “I’ve never even met Captain America.”

“Darcy,” Phil said. “Please don’t make me spell this out. Cap signs all my memorabilia. I’m a fan, okay? This is uncomfortable. I thought you’d be a stranger. Where’s the ID card?”

“I am so lost,” Darcy said.  

“The ID card you used to get onto the Bridge?” Phil said, sighing.

“But Phil, I used _my_ ID card. Jane took a job at SHIELD. We start in a week in a half,” Darcy said. “It’s here in my purse.” She plopped her purse on the table--it was shaped like an old radio--and dug around. “Here. See? Mine. Darcy ‘Lizabeth Lewis,” she cracked, using her childhood pronunciation.

“Oh,” Phil said. “You mean, you haven’t, you didn’t--”

“Didn’t what?” Darcy said.

“Have a one night stand with Captain America and steal his ID card?” Phil asked rapidly, swallowing.

“Nooooooooo,” Darcy said. “I’ve never even met him, I swear.” She held her hands up. “What is going on with you guys?’ She looked at Loki.

“They say I’m the insane one,” he said, looking at his fingernails casually.

“Who would even believe that?” Darcy said, looking at Phil.

“Uh--,” Phil began, blushing.

“I mean, everybody knows Cap is a virgin, right?” Darcy asked him.

“You should ask Thor, he knows these things,” Loki said, picking lint off his green sleeve. He was wearing a sparkling green version of Elvis’s _Aloha from Hawaii_ jumpsuit.

“That’s what Tony Stark told me that time I met him. He tried to give me a million dollars if I would flash Cap my boobs if and when I ever met him,” Darcy said.

“Darcy,” Phil said, shaking his head.

“We should find him, then,” Loki said, eyes gleaming. “Would Stark pay, do you think?”

“Why are you even wearing that?” Phil asked, looking at Loki’s suit.

“We were going to Graceland, I was getting into the spirit of things,” Loki said, as if Phil was particularly dim.

“You’re wearing a green version of Elvis’s jumpsuit to go to Graceland,” Phil said flatly, rubbing his face.

“I was hoping I could take his picture all over the house,” Darcy said.

“I also have the sunglasses,” Loki supplied.

“How did this happen, though?” Darcy asked.

“As near as I can tell from my notes, Captain Rogers and Natasha Romanoff must have spotted you in that Jeep--” Phil said, looking at the papers he’d brought in.

“It’s Jane and Thor’s,” Darcy told Phil.

“Cap saw you behind the wheel and, uh, confused you with another woman, they gave chase, and you fled,” Phil said.

“Because I only saw a car and thought it might be HYDRA,” Darcy said. “Loki helped me when I called Jane. I didn’t know they were in it, or I would have stopped, I swear.”

“When you did your Bridge stunt, Cap assumed you were the woman he, uh, knew--” Phil said.

“In what I believe you Midgardians refer to as the Biblical sense,” Loki said.

“Apparently,” Phil said. “And that you’d stolen his ID to access the Bridge.”

“Lucky girl,” Darcy said. “I really did think Tony Stark was serious when he told me that virgin thing.”

“I’m increasingly glad Tony Stark never tells me anything,” Phil said, getting up. “I’ll get you out of here.”

“Does this mean we can still go to Graceland?” Darcy asked.

“I assume so,” Phil said.

“Poor Captain America, though,” Darcy said, pulling a face. "From what Tony says, he's the world's oldest Boy Scout. He's probably so embarrassed right now."

"I'm embarrassed right now," Phil muttered.

 

***

 

“Cap,” Fury said, appearing in the doorway of the STRIKE Alpha office that contained Steve’s desk.

“Yes, sir?” Steve asked. He’d been trying to focus on his work, but he could tell the other team members had heard the gossip that he might be linked to the security breach somehow after he had gone upstairs to discuss it with Fury.

“You’re off the hook. She used her own ID,” Fury said.

“What?” Natasha said, carefully not looking at Steve.

“Our intruder was Jane Foster’s assistant. Darcy Lewis. She and her adopted Asgardian brother decided to go joyriding the other night,” Fury said. “And Darcy Lewis doesn’t know you, Cap. Says you’ve never met.” He looked at Steve significantly. He was trying to keep Cap’s lovelife on the DL. Let Rogers have a private life.

“Yes, sir,” Steve said, catching the hint.

“Technically, she’s allowed on the property, so it’s not even a damn breach, although Loki doesn’t make me happy,” Fury said.  He swept out of the room. There was a collective moment of relief. It wasn’t HYDRA.

“Loki?” Jack Rollins said suddenly. “That Loki?”

“Thor refers to Darcy Lewis as his Lightning Sister because she tased him once,” Nat said to Jack. “I have the impression she is very close to he and his brother. ”

“Why did he say that about you being off the hook?” Brock Rumlow asked Steve. Steve shrugged.

“I thought I might recognize the car in the video,” he said. “I was wrong, Rumlow.”

“Uh-huh. Did you finally get some, Cap?” Rumlow asked, grinning. “That’s what Lisa downstairs thought.” Everyone knew Cap had pulled Fury aside, asked for privacy, and then an internal APB had gone out for a female driver in her late 20s.

“I would never say if I did,” Steve said, standing up to leave the room.

“That means, yes, doesn’t it?” Rumlow said, putting his feet on his desk and grinning at Steve.

“You are a child,” Nat said to Rumlow.

“C’mon, Cap,” Rumlow called. “I tell you about all the women I sleep with!”

“I know,” Steve said. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  
***

“You are a child. Flavored vodka is for children, peanut M&Ms are for children,” Rumlow said to Jack after Nat and Steve had both left, in an uncanny version of Nat’s affectless tone. “Both of them are no fun.” He watched the video of Darcy Lewis and Thor’s creepy brother doing donuts on the Bridge. “You think she’s fun? I think she looks fun. We need more fun around here, Jack,” Rumlow mused.

“She’s a fun-looking sheila,” Jack agreed. He’d used his phone to google her name and passed it to Brock. It was a photo from Darcy’s Instagram. “Look,” Jack said.

“Jesus Christ, Jack, warn a man.” He grinned. “She’s gorgeous. I bet there are some fucking sparks when you tap the Lightning Sis--ahem,” Brock said.

Sharon Carter--passing in the hall--had stopped in the doorway. “What did you say?” she said.

“Uhhh, the person everyone was speculating might be someone Cap knows is actually Foster’s assistant. We’re fine. There’s no breach, she used her own ID card,” Rumlow explained, cringing internally that Carter had busted him using _language_. Cap was her surrogate uncle, everybody knew. “No HYDRA, no crime,” he said.

“Oh,” Sharon said. “Where is Steve?” she asked.

“He left the room,” Rumlow said.

“I’ll page him then,” she said, turning on her heel.

 

“You’re so busted, mate,” Jack said.

“Maybe she didn’t hear me,” Rumlow said. “She doesn’t have the good hearing, does she?”

“She heard when you said she was even hot in sweats and kicked you in the groin during the last field recerts,” Jack pointed out.

“That was accidental,” Rumlow insisted. “It was the climbing wall thing.”

“Sure, mate.”

 

***

Sharon walked down the hall and found Steve in the breakroom getting coffee. “Steve?” she said. “Are you hiding in here?” He was sitting in a chair, looking at paperwork. She shut the door.

“Hi, Shar,” he said, looking up and  smiling his old USO smile. With Sharon, it didn’t feel forced. Ever since Peggy had introduced them in her nursing home, he’d thought of Sharon as the person who could have been _his_ niece, too. He would have married Peggy, he knew, if she would have had him. Sharon--the grandchild of Peggy’s other brother and his American wife--would have been the baby of the family when they were old and grey. And Peggy had been _so_ proud of Sharon for being the one to follow in her footsteps at SHIELD, despite the pressures. Sometimes, Steve had the oddest impression that the pressures on female agents weren’t any less than they’d been for Peggy, just different.

“What’s going on with you?” she said, pulling out a chair.

“Let me,” he said.

“Nope,” she said.

“You never me let open doors for you, either,” he complained. “I don’t think any less of you Shar, it’s just having manners.”

“Is it good manners to have anonymous hookups?” she asked archly.

“Oh God,” Steve said, putting his face in his hands. “I never meant for you to know about that….”

“Too late. Nat told me. What’s she like? I’ve heard about her from Thor before,” Sharon said.

“You have?” he said, confused.

“Steve, ever since you introduced me to Thor and called me your “best girl’s niece,” Thor Odinson has called me Sharon of the Rogerses,”  Sharon said, grinning. “He thinks we’re related. He updates me on all his family, too.”

“He’s like that,” Steve said, looking wry. “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind the hugs,” Sharon admitted. “But sooooo? Tell me. Do you, maybe, like a girl?”

“Sharon,” Steve said.

“I’ve been wondering if I needed to give you the birds and the bees talk for 2018, but I guess you’ve got that covered? Or do I have baby cousins?” she teased.

“You stop that,” he said pointing a finger.

“She’s pretty like Aunt Peggy,” Sharon said quietly. Thor carried photos of his Jane and her assistant.

“Maybe,” he said. Steve thought about Darcy at the movies, sitting under the mural of Mercury, with her hair curled and her lipstick on. It hadn’t occurred to him. “She’s not Peggy, though--she’s, well, I dunno.” He was trying to think of a word that wasn’t insulting. Quirky? That had a hint of the patronizing. But so did silly. Who was Darcy Lewis, anyway? He had an eidetic memory, so he’d realized as soon as Fury had spoken that he’d heard multiple Darcy Lewis stories from Thor, too: Darcy and Jane on Asgard, Darcy and Jane in Norway, Darcy and Jane taking him to try fried Snickers and Thor winning them the biggest teddy bears…all of Thor’s stories portrayed them as an inseparable pair of Pop Tart enthusiasts. Sort of like him and Bucky, actually.

“Duh,” Sharon said, smiling. “Nobody but Peggy is Peggy.”

“Peggy wouldn’t have broken into SHIELD to race cars,” Steve said.

“Nope,” Sharon said. “She definitely stole some, though.”

“Yeah?” he said, looking wryly curious. He always liked hearing Sharon’s stories from Peggy.

“This time in Los Angeles…..” Sharon began.

 

***

 

“I can take you back tonight. Your car’s on board,” Phil told Darcy. The Bus was waiting for him behind the building. Phil had pulled the Charger in next to Lola while the field office was prepping the release paperwork. That had been the highlight of his day. Phil was a classic car guy. Also, he was done thinking about Cap’s virtue. If he hadn’t met the girl, there was no girl. He could tell himself that. “Everything’s done?” he asked the agent processing the paperwork.

“Yes, sir,” the agent said, slightly awestruck by Phil.

“Thank you,” Phil said. “C’mon, Darcy, you.”

“I have apologized--” Loki said.

“Don’t care,” Phil said.

“He is exceedingly stubborn. Do you know how often I’ve stabbed Thor?” Loki asked Darcy quietly. “Thor always forgives me. Usually immediately.”

“Your brother is very forgiving,” Darcy said.

“He deserves a better adopted sibling,” Phil said, several feet ahead of them.

 

“You realize something, right?” Darcy said to Loki, as they followed Phil out of the SHIELD field office into the daylight. She blinked a little and got her sunglasses out of her vintage radio-shaped purse.

“What?” Loki said.

“We beat _Captain America_ and _Natasha Romanoff_ in a car chase,” she said giddily. “We got away. Who does that? Nobody!”

“I keep telling you we should rob banks, we’d be good at it. You could buy more of those handbags you like,” Loki said. She nodded--Betsey Johnson wasn’t cheap--then frowned.

“Jane would be upset if I got killed or went to jail, though. And I don’t trust anyone else to take care of her,” Darcy said. “She tends to bite people when she overdoes it on the Science! and doesn’t sleep. They’d quit and she might starve without me.”

“Of this I have no doubt,” Loki said. They ascended the ramp on the Bus.

“Hey, Phil?” Darcy said, looking at Lola. “This is your car?”

“Yes and neither of you are allowed to drive Lola,” he said.

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” Darcy said. “She’s beautiful.”

“Good. Thank you,” Phil said.

“But I was kinda wondering--what are your feelings about Elvis and singing in public, Phil?” Darcy said.

“What are you doing?” Loki whispered.

“What if you both entered that contest?” Darcy told the Asgardian. “You could do different Elvis songs.”

“I would, of course, be better,” Loki insisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's radio handbag (it reminds me of, like, those reproduction Crosley radios that I think Darcy would love): https://www.betseyjohnson.com/product/KITSCH-RADIO-WAVES-CROSSBODY/254371.uts?selectedColor=PINK
> 
> The summary for this chapter is inspired by a.) Steve's dancing monkey sketch and b.) that this Elvis song exists: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wYW0YVQ_b_4


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a small reminder that Jane will be back in a week & a half to give Darcy a big lecture on hanging out with Loki and, uh, other things......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos.

Fury met them on the SHIELD ground helipad when they landed. Skye drove the Charger off the the Bus. “I really wish I had a car like this,” she said to Darcy. “I’m gonna miss you guys. Graceland and that impersonator contest were so fun. I had no idea Phil looked like that with sideburns.” They’d gone to Graceland, then hit the nearest Elvis impersonator contest with the Bus.

“It was a revelation,” Darcy admitted.

“Is that what you would call it?” Loki said. He still a bit bent of out of shape.

“You were great,” Darcy told him. He rolled his eyes.

“I was so pissed. That committee robbed you,” Skye told him. “Hey, we could steal you a trophy?”

“No,” Loki said. “I am done with Mississippi Semi-Regional Elvis Tribute Artist Committee, Biloxi Division.”

“I’m so happy you broke Fitz, though. Maybe he’ll stop being so uptight now that I have blackmail videos of him singing “Return to Sender” with Jemma in public,” Skye said happily.

  
***

 

The three of them walked to where Phil was meeting Fury. “Coulson,” Fury said, sounding wry.

“Sir,” Phil said.

“Where’s your trophy?” Fury asked.

“They only gave trophies to the top six Elvis impersonators. I was seventh, sir,” Phil explained.

“What about you two?” Fury asked Darcy and Loki.

“The committee didn’t appreciate my rockabilly-influenced interpretation of “Kentucky Rain.” They said I sounded more like Hank Williams. Obviously, it was rigged,” Loki said.

“I agree,” Darcy said. “His version was great. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, but he can sing and do those karate kicks.”

“Uh-huh,” Fury said. He turned and walked away.

“Do we just follow?” Skye said.

“I guess?” Darcy said.

“Wonderful,” Loki told Darcy. They trailed Fury, Phil, and a curious Skye into the building and to the elevator. Darcy’s brain registered that there were two or three tactical-gear clad guys already on the glass-walled elevator. They were all wearing black. It made the shield stand out more. Captain America was standing with his back to the elevator door, looking towards the Potomac. His shield was strapped to his back.

 

“Hold that elevator, Rollins!” Fury called. They were still trailing him like ducklings. Darcy was stepping over the metal threshold when Captain America turned to face her. She would have stumbled, had Loki not caught her elbow. She was lucky that the near-stumble covered her gasp.

“Oh, whoops,” Darcy said out loud. Steve looked at her and cocked his head to one side. His expression was almost coy.

“Watch your step, miss,” one of the tactical gear guys--an Australian--cautioned. He looked terrifying, but his voice was kind.

“Thanks,” Darcy said.

“No worries,” the Australian said. The guy next to him just grinned at her knowingly. Like he knew. Did he know? She’d actually had sex with _Captain America_. It was batshit crazy, is what it was. Steve was looking at Darcy with a neutral expression, but he raised his eyebrow a tiny fraction. Darcy turned and smiled at Skye, while her brain screamed and flailed and basically short-circuited.

“This is a glass coffin,” Loki announced, still standing at the edge of the elevator.

“Get in Odinson,” Phil said.

“An exceedingly warm glass coffin,” Loki said, stepping on with a sigh.

“It’s a real design flaw,” the grinning tac gear guy said. “Apparently, nobody thought about the combination of DC summer heat and Australians who smell like Vegemite.”

“Oy, that’s rude,” the Australian said. “How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t even eat Vegemite?”

“Isn’t that yeast?” Darcy said.

“Uh-huh. Doesn’t it sound delicious, sweetheart?” the Grinner said. He’d half turned to look back at Darcy and actually winked. “I’m Brock Rumlow,” he said. “Vegemite here is Jack Rollins.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Darcy Lewis,” she said.

“We know,” Rumlow said.

“Skye, Loki, and Coulson,” Darcy said, introducing the other three.

“Knew that, too,” he said, positively smirking. _Oh my God, Darcy thought, he knows I had sex with Captain America. I’ve seen Captain America naked. It was dark, but still. Is that why he keeps his bedroom so dark? He can probably see in the dark. Or is that Catwoman?_

 

“If we’re done talking about Australian cuisine, this is our stop,” Fury announced, herding them off the elevator. “This way,” he said, turning left and marching away at full speed. Phil and Skye hurried after him. Darcy’s brain was still processing; Loki paused and looked back at her.

“What is he going to do? Hello?” Loki asked.

“What?” she said.

“Is he going to jail us?” he said.

“I don’t think so,” Darcy said, still mind-boggled. _Captain America asked me to call him daddy. I corrupted a national icon…..actually, he seemed pretty corrupted already, didn’t he?_

 

They reached the door to Fury’s office after the other two.

“I need to talk to Coulson and her alone. Stay here. I’ll talk to you two later,” Fury said. Then he shut his office door in Darcy’s face.

“He’s very hospitable,” Loki said archly.

“Bright and bubbly,” Darcy said, quoting _Moulin Rouge!._ “You can still flee, you know,” she told Loki.

“I will not be chased away like a coward. If he wants to imprison us, I will escape. Cleverly. I have some scruples--are you all right? You are pacing. Do you really fear arrest?” he asked Darcy.

“No, no, I’m fin--” Darcy began.

 

Someone cleared their throat. “Miss Lewis?” Darcy turned. Steve was standing there. _Captain America Steve._

“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t realized you’d gotten off the elevator, too, Cap.”

“Miss Lewis, I have a question about Thor, if you have a minute?” Captain America said in that chipper PSA voice. But there was something oddly arch about his expression, she thought.

“Oh, okay,” she said. He gestured for her to follow him.

“I was wondering if you knew when he and Dr. Foster are flying back?” he said, as he led her several feet away and into the alcove by a conference room door. He was almost (but not quite) touching her elbow.

“They’re flying in from Oslo on the 25th. I have the exact time on my phone,” Darcy said. She dug in her purse.

“Nice bag. Meet me at Bistro Cacao tonight at seven-thirty?” Steve-- _Captain freaking America_ , her brain registered--asked in a low voice. “Nobody knows we’ve met before.”  He’d turned his head, so it wasn’t obvious he was speaking. It probably looked like he was just listening politely. She nodded yes.

“No one?” she said.

“Yep,” he said quietly. “Will you meet me?”

“Yes. It looks like their flight is at 6:30pm, Cap. Do you need to send Thor a note?” Darcy asked politely, playing along. “Jane checks her email--usually.”

“No, ma’am, I’ll just speak to him when they return. Thank you,” he said. She nodded significantly. He nodded back and disappeared down a hallway quickly.

 

“What was that about?” Loki asked curiously, when she walked back.

“Question about your brother’s ETA,” Darcy said smoothly.

“Your facility with lying grows,” Loki said. “I consider myself a good influence. When I met you, you were a terrible liar.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Darcy said.

“No,” he said, “you were appalling. You had a twitch.”

“I did not,” Darcy insisted.

“Oh, yes you did,” Loki said.

“What are you doing?” Phil said from Fury’s doorway.

“He says I’m a terrible liar,” Darcy said. “Am I?”

“I think you’re okay,” Skye said. “Let’s test it: tell Phil he has hair.”

“Excuse me?” Phil said.

“Oh, this is jolly,” Loki said.

“I can fire you,” Phil said to Skye.

“I’m going to fire all of you if you don’t stop talking in my office doorway,” Fury growled from somewhere within the office. “You’re letting my a/c out.”

 

***

Darcy worried how she’d make excuses for Loki, but he and Skye decided to go to karaoke and she was able to beg off and say she needed to run errands and would meet them later. She went home and re-fixed her hair and makeup. Then she put a little perfume on, took a deep breath, and locked the apartment door behind her.

 

Steve was sitting at the same table they’d eaten at before at Bistro Cacao, only he faced the door. He looked up when she entered. “Thank you for meeting me here,” Steve said, a little formally, when she walked over to the table. He was wearing his casual clothes, not his captain’s uniform. She wondered where the shield was, then realized he had it leaning against the wall next to his chair, hidden in a big square artist’s portfolio.

“Sure,” Darcy said, smiling as she sat down. “That’s clever,” she said.

“What?” he said.

“Hiding the shield in there?” she said. “It’s a good idea.”

“Oh, uh, it’s actually not in there--that’s mine,” he said.

“Oh. Sorry--I assumed,” she said.

“It’s not a bad idea. You paint?” he asked.

“Ummm, not well. I flirted with an art history major and we had to take six hours of art, so I took painting. Everyone told me the painting instructor was less scary than the drawing one. It was a small art history department,” she said. When she was nervous, she talked. Why was she nervous? _Because you saw Captain America naked_ , her brain supplied. “I keep meaning to take a workshop with this collage artist that I love a lot, but I’m never in the right country when she’s teaching near us.”

“Gee, I wouldn’t know what that’s like at all,” Steve said wryly. “What’s her name? The collage artist?”

“Elizabeth St. Hilaire,” Darcy supplied, pulling out her phone. “I own one of her pieces. It was a Christmas gift from Jane and Thor.” Jane and Thor had bought her a small eight-by-eight collage of a cardinal with a background of sheet music. It was small enough to travel easily, so it had gone with her to several countries and now hung in her bedroom.

“Pretty,” he said. “Lots of texture.”

“This is her her website,” Darcy said, sliding the phone to Steve. He scrolled through the images. “I liked gesso a lot in painting class,” she admitted. Texture paste. It had been easy to work with and Darcy had enjoyed the classes with the nice painting instructor, even if she’d ultimately switched majors. He’d played Norah Jones and she’d got to splash paint around and apply gesso to canvases.

To her surprise, Steve pulled out a notebook and wrote St. Hilaire’s name down. “I keep lists. You went from art history to astrophysics?” he said.

“No. I was a political science major,” she said.

“Really?” he said, looking surprised himself.

“Uh-huh,” she said. There was a lull in the conversation.

“I wanted--” Steve began, but the waiter came over and asked if they wanted wine.

 

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” he said, after they’d ordered.

“Thank you for inviting me. I just have one question?” Darcy said.

“Yeah?” Steve said, after he closed the curtains around the table again.

“Why’d you invite me?” Darcy asked, laughing.

“I, uh, wanted to talk to you. Apologize for things,” he said.

“Ohhhhh,” Darcy said. “When you and the Black Widow chased me?”

“That sounds horrible,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I, uh, did not intend for you to feel threatened.”

“It’s okay,” she told him.

“I was trying to give you my number after the movie the other night,” he explained. “When I didn’t know who you were.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “I assumed you were a HYDRA kidnapper. I’m glad you weren’t.” She smiled, but he didn’t smile back.

“Dating is different for me,” he said quietly. “It’s why I asked you if you’d come home with me the other night.”

“Instead of small talk?” Darcy said. He nodded seriously.

“It’s not like I could tell you anything meaningful, anyway,” Steve said. “What am I supposed to say to new people? ‘Harvey, I’m Batman!’?” His expression was wry, but there was a bitter note in his voice, Darcy thought.

“Nice work, referencing the only blonde Batman,” Darcy said.

“ _Batman Forever’s_ underrated,” Steve said. “But maybe I’m just acclimated to camp and Technicolor or something?”

“Lots of neon in Times Square in your day, huh?” Darcy said.

“Actually, yeah,” he said, looking away. “In my day.” He looked oddly tense, she thought. The waiter came back with her wine and his beer; Darcy tried to steer the conversation to safer waters.

“Well, hopefully your dates don’t fall asleep in the middle of _Gilda_ ,” she said, swirling her glass a little.

“I saw that,” he said, chuckling. “You serious about him?”

“God, no, that was the guy who stood me up the night I met you,” Darcy said. “That was our second attempt at a date. I can’t believe he fell asleep.”

“Ma’am,” Steve said, shifting in his Cap PSA mode, “I would encourage you not to give that young man a third date.”

“On my word of honor, I won’t, Captain,” she whispered in an affected voice, putting a hand over her heart. He grinned.

“Good,” he said. Then the PSA smile fell away. He could shift effortlessly between the guy she’d met at Bistro Cacao and Cap, she realized. _Was Captain America an act?_ The thought was alarming. “What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

“I just realized how often you have to be buoyant and optimistic and I feel tired on your behalf,” she told him jokingly. “It seems like a lot of work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, with that same bitter note. “It’s nice to pretend not to be him sometimes.”

“Is that what we were doing?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re naturally cheerful, though.” The thought seemed to have occurred to him suddenly.

“It has never been more clear that you haven’t seen me before coffee,” Darcy joked. He grinned.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said.

“Wouldn’t mind what?” Darcy asked.

“Seeing you before coffee,” he said. He looked at her for a minute, then his expression darkened and he shook his head, sighing. “No, I shouldn’t even ask.” He drank a little.

“Ask me what?” Darcy said. “To go home with you again?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling briefly. “It wouldn’t work, though.”

“Why wouldn’t it work?” she asked.

“SHIELD is insane,” he said. “For a place that keeps secrets, everybody’s all over my business. I’m trying to keep some semblance of privacy. But that means I can’t tell the women I’m with who I am or date people at work who could know.” He sighed.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “I’m sorry. You hate it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said. “Besides, you’re seriously dating, aren’t you?”

“Not really,” Darcy admitted, not understanding his shift. “We’ve been traveling so much--”

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding in understanding. “Here’s Mike--” The waiter had come back to take their order.

 

They were eating when Steve looked up at her with a strange expression. “Darce,” he said. She hadn’t realized he knew her nickname.

“Yeah?” she said.

“What if we had an….arrangement or something?” he said. “A private one, just between us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>    
> Elizabeth St. Hilaire Nelson's collages are so pretty--she's my favorite artist--I mention them in multiple Darcy fics: https://www.facebook.com/PaperPaintingsCollageArtwork/?tn-str=k*F.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't plan it, but this is, oddly enough, a fic threaded with discussions of contracts: movie star contracts, Steve's feeling that he has an implied contract with America to behave in certain ways, sex contracts....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!  
> 

“A private arrangement?” Darcy said, raising an eyebrow and grinning. “Did you want to draw up a contract, too?”

“A contract?” he said, frowning. “Like SHIELD’s non-disclosure agreement? No, no.” He shook his head. “I trust you, Darce.”

“I was thinking more Christian Grey,” Darcy said.

“Who?” Steve said. Darcy laughed for several minutes. When she explained the reference, he pulled a face. “I’m not into _that_ kind of thing,” he said, shaking his head.

“Good,” Darcy said. “This ravioli is very good, by the way. You should try some of mine.” She put a ravioli on his plate.

“You’re giving me food?” he said. “In the middle of this conversation?”

“I happen to think food is important,” Darcy told him.

“Oh, okay. This is good,” Steve admitted.

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said. He opened the curtain and waved Mike the waiter over.

“Mike, can we get some more of these, please?” he asked.

“Sure, Steve,” Mike said.

“So, they know you here?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Nobody’s ever taken photos or sold me out to the tabloids or whatever.”

“Thor’s had the photos thing happen, but he’s really good at letting it all--” she paused, uncertain of how to continue.

“Go?” Steve said, arching an eyebrow.

“Not exactly. He’s just naturally forgiving. Maybe it’s growing up with Loki, because little Thor got stabbed and tricked a lot,” Darcy said.

“Stabbed?” Steve said, raising both eyebrows.

“Loki’s favorite trick was turning into snakes, so Thor would pick him up,” she explained. “Thor loves snakes. Wham, Loki magics back into Loki, and, uh.” Darcy made a stabbing gesture with her fork.

Steve shook his head.

“That’s deeply, deeply messed up,” he said.

“They love each other, though,” Darcy said. “Really, they do.”

“Do they now?” Steve said archly.

“Hasn’t Bucky stabbed you?” she asked.

“He tried. Brainwashing is different,” Steve insisted.

“Okey-dokey, Cap,” Darcy said.

“Shhh,” he said playfully, putting a finger to his mouth. “No Capping in the restaurant.”

“Ah,” Darcy said, “my bad.” Mike came back with the ravioli. “Thanks,” Darcy said politely.

“You’re welcome. Do you want another glass of wine?” Mike asked.

“Sure,” Darcy said. She wanted to get a teensy bit buzzed if she was going to talk about taking Steve’s clothes off again. Also, in future she was going to make him leave a light on. “Thanks,” she repeated, when Mike returned with a second glass.

 

“Soooo--” Darcy began.

“I can’t understand why you’d want to hit someone who you were having sex with,” Steve said suddenly. “That is just wrong.” He was obviously back on the Christian Grey thing.

“You get all your hitting in at work,” she said. He grinned.

“I punched Hitler hundreds of times,” he said. “In my USO skits.”

“That poor guy,” she said, shaking her head.

“What?” Steve said.

“Not actual Hitler, the actor playing him,” Darcy explained. “He had to go out there every night with the freaking mustache on. I bet nobody wanted _his_ autograph.”

“Nope,” Steve said, grinning. “Jim was a nice fella, though.”

“Like Edward G. Robinson. You know how he played all those gangsters?” Darcy said.

“Uh-huh,” Steve said. He looked at her wryly.

“He hated guns. Supposedly, he flinches when he has to shoot on screen in _Key Largo_ ,” Darcy said.

“I met him once,” Steve said, grinning. “During the war, he donated a bunch of his earnings to the USO.”

“Shut up!” Darcy said. “That is so neat. Wow.” She sat there for a minute, thinking. Edward G. Robinson had been the complete opposite of his gangster image: the son of Jewish immigrants, a major art collector--Darcy had read he owned works by Degas, Chagall, Picasso and others--and supposedly a little bit shy.

“That’s the thing about me that most impresses you?” Steve said, making an expression she hadn’t seen before.  He tilted down his chin and was looking at her with smirk. He almost looked pleased? “Most women say wow when I come out of the clothes, you say wow about Edward G. Robinson?”

“There’s just something about him, you know?” she said, sighing a little. “He’s so good in _Double Indemnity_ and that soylent movie. Like, if he could have played any role instead of being typecast as a tough guy, what would he have chosen?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve said, smiling broadly at her. “Edward G. Robinson.” He shook his head.

“I said wow the other night,” Darcy said.

“I don’t remember that and my memory’s pretty good,” Steve said. He scratched the side of his head.

“It was an internal wow,” Darcy insisted.

“Sure,” he said.

“I didn’t know you could do snark,” she told him.

“I have lots of hidden talents,” he said, grinning.

 

“What was even in that contract?” he said, a few minutes later. “The Christian Grey one?”

“I dunno, I can’t convince Jane to watch the movie with me so we can mock it. She says it’s insulting to women,” Darcy said.

“How does she know if she hasn’t seen it?” Steve asked curiously.

“Feminist blogs and Twitter,” Darcy said.

“Oh,” Steve said. “If we, uh, started something, would she think that was insulting to women? Or would you be willing not to tell her?”

“Would you want me not to tell her?” Darcy asked.

“Well,” Steve said, “I’m sure Jane can be discreet, but, uh, what about Thor?”

“Thor can be discreet,” Darcy said loyally. “Very discreet.”

“He’s not going to see me and say, ‘My good captain! Congratulations upon the courting of my Lightning Sister’ at full volume?” Steve asked, tilting his head.

“He is actually very good at secrets,” Darcy said.

“So good I don’t know it?” Steve said slyly.

“Exactly. Remember when he did that adoption equality campaign last year and everyone thought he did it because of Loki?” Darcy said.

“Yeah?” Steve said. “It wasn’t?”

“Nope,” Darcy said. One of Jane’s grad school friends had been having difficulty finalizing the adoption of a child with his husband. Their case worker at the county Department of Social Services seemed to be delaying things on purpose. The idea that a gay couple could be barred from adopting a six year old child they’d fostered from infancy had incensed Thor and he’d actually accompanied them to a hearing for moral support. Then he’d made sure to be seen publicly campaigning for adoption equality and DSS had--ahem--finally processed the adoption. But Jane’s friends had asked him not to mention their names, so he never had.

“You’re not going to tell me what it was really about?” Steve said, when it was clear she wasn’t saying anything else.

“Nope. Some people requested privacy, that’s all,” Darcy said. “Thor would do the same for you.”

“You really think so?” he asked.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “I’d bet the farm on it.”

“You don’t have a farm,” Steve said.

“I have a basil plant. Basil the seventh.” She pronounced it the British way, like Basil Rathbone.

“Clint does,” Steve said. “Have a farm. It’s near Algona.”

“Are you supposed to tell me that?” Darcy said. She knew Clint had retired and was farming, but she didn’t know where exactly.

“No,” Steve said, making an oops face. “Thor didn’t tell you about when we visited last--”

“Nope,” Darcy said.

“Good with secrets, huh?” Steve said.

“Very good. I bet we could find that _Fifty Shades_ contract scene on Youtube, then I wouldn’t have to sit through the whole movie,” Darcy told him.

“Basil the seventh?” Steve said.

“I have trouble keeping my basil Basils alive,” she said. He laughed.

 

He looked at her when they left the restaurant together. “Are you, uh, going my way?” he asked. He looked a little nervous, Darcy thought. Or maybe guarded.

“I can’t tonight,” she said. “I remembered I’m supposed to meet Loki and Skye. Sorry.”

“That’s okay, Darce,” he said in a tone that made her realize he thought she was giving him a gentle kiss-off.

“How do you feel about tomorrow?” she said. “Your apartment, around seven?”

“Really?” he said, brightening. “That’d be great.”

“I’m just going to get an Uber,” she told him.

“Let me take you,” he said.

“Doesn’t sound very covert,” Darcy said.

“I can be inconspicuous,” he said. “Come with me.”

“You have a motorcycle?” Darcy said, once they’d walked the few blocks to his place. It was parked outside.

“Uh-huh. Helmet,” he said, passing one to her. It would obscure her whole face. “Nobody can see who we are. Where are you supposed to be meeting them?”

“Some karaoke place on U St.,” Darcy said. Loki had sent texts wondering where she was.

“Gotcha,” he said.

 

“I haven’t ridden on a motorcycle before, much less with a national icon,” she told him, as he wove them through DC traffic. The helmets had bluetooth. She didn’t think the motorcycle-shaped kid’s ride in front of the Puente Antiguo K-mart with Thor counted, did it?

“So, you’re telling me you’re a motorcycle virgin?” he said in a teasing voice.

“Tony told me _you_ were, that’s why I thought we hadn’t met,” she said sweetly.

“Of course he did,” Steve said.

“He also offered me a million dollars to show you my boobs,” Darcy said.

“Golly, I have such swell friends,” Steve said with obvious sarcasm.

“I’m a little insulted that you don’t actually seem thrilled by the idea that I might have randomly flashed you,” Darcy said. He laughed.

“I would have had to pretend not to be, just to keep Tony from hiring you to jump out of a cake at my eightieth,” he said dryly. “Naked, of course.”

“When’s that, next year?” she teased.

“Har har,” he said.

 

“Would we do stuff like this?” she asked, as the thought occurred to her when they were at a red light. She could see people sitting outside at a restaurant a few feet away.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“Dinner in restaurants, you dropping me off places, would that be a part of our arrangement?” she said.

“Hmm,” he said.  He sighed. “There are some places I would avoid--STRIKE bars, mostly--but I still go to a few restaurants that I trust.”

“No movies, huh?” she said.

“Oh, I look like lots of guys in the dark. And in a baseball cap,” he said wryly. “Might be possible. Of course, you have to wear clothes in a theater,” he said.

“Relevance?” she said.

“You wouldn’t need clothes if we watched movies at my place,” Steve said.

“Hmmm,” she said. She was mostly thinking about him naked, but he must have assumed she was having doubts.

“Besides, my apartment’s comfortable, right?  It’s not like I’m going to keep you in my building’s basement, Darce,” he said. She laughed.

“Okaaaay. Also, that basement thing was alarmingly specific,” she told him.

“Well, it’s getting real crowded down there. Sheila, Lauren, and Jennifer might not like another roommate….” he joked.

“Too soon, Steve, too soon,” she told him.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, when he’d pulled up a few feet from the bar’s doors. She handed him back her helmet. She couldn’t really read his expression behind his own helmet. The part over his eyes was tinted.

“Okay, bye,” Darcy said. She took a few steps.

“Hold on,” he called. When she turned back, she had the oddest feeling he was smiling behind the helmet. “Don’t do anything too crazy, like break into your office,” he said.

 

***

 

“Why are you smiling?” Loki said, when she found them inside the karaoke bar. Skye was on stage, singing along to Lady Gaga.

“Am I smiling?” Darcy said.

“Did you meet someone?” he asked.

“What makes you think that?” Darcy said.

“Did you kill someone?” he asked.

“Theoretically-speaking, if I did, would you help me hide the body?” Darcy asked.

“I would help you hide the corpses of anyone,” he said. “Well, not my mother. Or Thor.”

“I notice there’s someone you left off that list,”  Darcy said.

“Whatever do you mean?” he said, with near-perfect innocence.

“You wanna go up there and sing some Hindi Zahra with me?” Darcy said.

“Yes,” he said. “Who is that?”

“You’ll love her,” Darcy told him.

 

When they stumbled out of the bar at closing, there was a dark SHIELD SUV parked out front. A redheaded woman was leaning against the side. Darcy almost jumped out of her skin.

“Hello, I have been sent to make sure you got home alive,” Natasha Romanoff said. “He was very insistent.”

“Isn’t Phil greaaaaaat? I love working with Phil!” a drunk Skye said. “I need to apologize to him about the hair thing, don’t I?”

“Possibly,” Loki said. “He is very stubborn and refuses to accept my apologies.”

“That’s not nice,” Skye said, waving a finger. She stumbled and Loki caught her. “Not nice, Phil. Nope, nope…” she was still saying as they climbed into the back of the SUV.

“I did kill him,” Loki admitted. “Technically.”

 

“Phil sent you, huh?” Darcy said, still on the sidewalk.

“Someone at SHIELD did,” Natasha said coolly.

“This wouldn’t be the same guy who had you chase me in your car?” Darcy said.

“I was impressed by your ingenuity. How did you like the movie?” she said.

“I love that movie,” Darcy admitted. She had no idea how Natasha Romanoff felt about her. But then Natasha winked.

“Come along, he will be calling if I don’t get you home within so many minutes and then he will do the disappointed tone,” she said.

“The tone?” Darcy said.

“It goes with the face. I dislike feeling guilty,” Nat said.

“You do that?” Darcy said, then made a face. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“Everyone is surprised,” she said, opening the passenger door for Darcy.

 

***

 

“Uhhhhhh, I am so hungover, why’d you let me drink so much?” Skye declared, when they stumbled through SHIELD’s cafeteria line the next morning. Loki and Skye had crashed at Darcy’s the night before. Phil had left them a message saying they could eat at headquarters because they had permission. They were sneaking Loki in.

“I did try to take away your tequila bottle,” Loki said, shimmering into being next to Darcy as they sat down.

“You threatened to ruin his credit score if he didn’t let you have it,” Darcy reminded Skye.

“Lucky for me, I do not have a credit score. What is a credit score?” Loki asked.

“It’s how they determine if you’re eligible to borrow money,” Darcy said.

“How dreary. But I do like money,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Money is wonderful.”

“It’s even green here,” Darcy joked.

“Ughhhhhhh,” Skye moaned. “You’re so much less hungover than me.”

“That is because Darcy was off visiting her secret lover while you had those margaritas,” Loki supplied.

“Somebody’s got a secret lover?” a familiar voice said behind Darcy. She turned. It was those tactical dudes, Rollins and Rumlow. Rumlow had spoken. “Who’s your secret lover, Lewis?” Rumlow asked, sitting down with his breakfast tray. Rollins sat, too. Skye blinked at them and Loki merely looked bored.

“Who are you again?” Skye asked.

“We’re on STRIKE Alpha,” Rollins explained. “I’m Jack, he’s Brock.”

“The names around here….” Skye muttered. Loki grinned a fraction.

“I run STRIKE Alpha,” Rumlow said, “technically, I’m his boss.”

“But Cap’s still the boss of you,” Rollins said slyly.

“You can’t possibly be interested in who I hook up with?” Darcy said to Rumlow, gobsmacked. Rumlow grinned.

“You said hook up, so that means he exists,” Rumlow said.

“Or she,” Rollins supplied.

“Good point, Jack,” Rumlow said. “We sort of thought you and Asgard here might have a thing.”

“I would ask you not to speculate on my love life,” Loki said icily. He got a little sensitive when people asked about it, Darcy knew, mostly because of the racy and bonkers Norse myths.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Darcy warned, “he gets stabby.”

“What, people ask you if you’re fond of horses, pal?” Rumlow cracked and Darcy saw Loki go a teensy-teensy fraction blue.

“Seriously, stop that!” Darcy said, mock slapping the STRIKE boss or whatever the heck he was on the arm.

“You’re hitting me now?” Rumlow said.

“We won’t be able to stop him from killing you,” Skye said, looking dubiously at the scrambled eyes on her fork.

“She is not incorrect,” Loki said.

“Okay, okay, you’re off limits, but c’mon Lewis, spill. Tell us about your secret hook up,” Rumlow said. “You banging some hot Asgardian warrior or some shit? Please tell me it’s that Sif chick.” Loki actually grinned at that one. Darcy rolled her eyes.

“He’s bored,” Rollins explained. “We thought you’d have fun stories.”

“We’ve heard the one about you tasin’ Thor,” Rumlow said. “And then Romanoff had to disappear and pick you up from karaoke on a weeknight?”

“If you think that’s wildly exciting, you must lead very boring lives for SHIELD people,” Darcy said, biting her toast.

“I mostly go to the gym since I moved here and took this job,” Rollins said. “I’d adopt a dog, but I’m gone too much.” He looked oddly wistful for someone who had such resting bitchface. Skye stared openly.

“Jumping out of planes and shooting terrorists is all the fun I get,” Rumlow admitted to Darcy, sighing.

“What happened to that sheila you were seeing?” Rollins asked him.

“Lucy? She went back to her second ex-husband. Said I was emotionally unavailable. Can you believe that shit?” Rumlow said.

“Sorry, mate.”

“It’s not my fault I can’t talk about work. I let her talk about her work and that manager she hated. She’ll be back. I think,” Rumlow said, waving his fork dismissively.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. “Sure, she will.”

“You’d fuck me, right?” Rumlow said to Darcy. “I mean, look at my abs. These are great abs.” He pulled up his shirt.

Darcy looked at his stomach. “Um, yeah, those are good abs?” she said, nodding. They were impressive.

“And abs are the hardest things to get,” Rumlow said, as if he was imparting some profound wisdom to Darcy. “You gotta have your body fat locked down everywhere else for that kind of definition.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. Over his shoulder, she could see Phil talking to Steve. Phil was looking a little over-awed as he talked and Steve was smiling politely. She caught Steve’s eye and he raised his eyebrow a fraction. Rumlow was still talking about paleo and the importance of body balance.

“I think I should get that kayak,” Rollins mused out loud. “I miss being outdoors when I’m not getting shot at.”

“Wow,” Skye said. “I can’t believe you two are doing this to us. Is this some sort of SHIELD hazing thing?”

“Death by boredom,” Loki said wryly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 50 Shades scenes that Darcy & Steve are talking/joking about are: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJWr1dGlcOI  
> And here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kzF36SzcTC4
> 
> (I don't want to kink shame anybody with this chapter/the next one but I can't see this Steve as a BDSM guy, given his onscreen feelings about bullying/power relationships.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gentlemen, Miss Lewis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!
> 
> (earning our M-rating for the last section, so skip it if it's not your thing....)

“You don’t want to go?” Rumlow asked Darcy, as they finished eating breakfast.

“I have plans tonight,” Darcy said. Everyone but Darcy wanted to go to karaoke again tonight.

“Oh. What are you doing now?” Rumlow asked. Across the table, Loki grinned slightly and flashed her a rapidly-disappearing note: _You’ll never be rid of that one._ Darcy shook her head a fraction

“Um, I need to check on our lab stuff?” Darcy said. She and Jane had ordered equipment and supplies. They’d brought some of their old stuff. “Do you want to go, too?” she asked Loki.

“I could be prevailed upon,” he said. “Will it be terribly boring?”

“No,” Darcy said. “I ordered more prank stuff since the last time you were here.”

“Prank stuff? What prank stuff?” Rumlow asked.

“Uhhh, I think Phil wants to talk to me,” Skye said, looking over. Phil was gesturing at her.

“Okay,” Darcy said, standing up. To her surprise, Rollins and Rumlow followed them, too.

“Tell me about the prank stuff, Lewis,” Rumlow said, as they walked towards the exit. Skye broke away to talk to Phil, telling Darcy she would text her about tonight’s plans in case she changed her mind.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later, Skye. We have a box of prank stuff,” she explained to Rollins and Rumlow, waving at Phil. He smiled back.

 

Captain America met them halfway to the door. “Gentlemen,” he said, nodding. “Miss Lewis.”

“Cap,” Rumlow and Rollins said in unison. Loki merely nodded. Darcy knew that Loki thought Steve was staid and boring

“Hey, Cap,” she said, feeling a wicked impulse.

“Yes, ma’am?” he asked politely.

“Do you autograph bras, by any chance?” she asked, grinning. “I’m asking for a friend. She’d love your autograph and I just don’t have any paper. I can’t think of where my notebook went.”  Rollins and Rumlow laughed. Loki rolled his eyes. For a moment, Steve closed his eyes. Then he opened them and looked down at her. He still had his ‘aw, shucks’ face on but Darcy thought there was a gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there previously.

“Ma’am, I’m real sorry, but I don’t keep a pen in the suit,” he said.

“I’ll have to catch you another time, then,” Darcy said.

“Oh, God, Lewis,” Rumlow said as they walked away. “You’re going to kill Cap, saying stuff like that. The man can’t handle it.”

 

They’d gotten to the cafeteria doorway when she glanced back.  Steve was standing next to Phil. He turned his head a little towards her and grinned for a brief second.

  


***

 

Steve was sitting on the table when his SHIELD physician entered the exam room. “Hey, Steve, you finally catch a cold?” Molly Williams said. It was a running joke between them. Steve never caught colds.

“Hey, Mol,” Steve said. “Nope, no colds. How’s your little one?” He got on well with his SHIELD physician. They were friends. He did not consider his therapist a friend--rumor had it she dialed Fury before he was out of the office’s waiting room--but he liked and trusted Molly. He’d cracked a sly Frankenstein joke the first time they met and she’d  caught it and done an Igor impression.

“Not so little anymore. She starts pre-K next year, I’m feeling old, Steve! And I miss her being a baby,” she said. “It’s so much fun when they’re little.”

“You could always have another one,” Steve said, smiling.

“Yeah, you say that to Bob at the Christmas party, Steve.”

“I might,” Steve said, grinning.

“So, what’s new with you?” she asked. “Your yearly blood work’s not strictly due for another two months, but we could do it today, if you want?” She treated him for bruises and minor mission injuries, monitored his blood work for potential serum complications, and cleared him for field duty.

“That’d be fine,” Steve said.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ve got vials ready. Roll up your sleeve, soldier.” Steve was rolling up his sleeve and she was tapping notes into SHIELD’s eMeds electronic filing system when he said something else.

“I, uh, might need more of those condoms you made me last year, Mol,” he told her.

“I’ll put an order in with Bernard. How many do you want? The same number?” she asked, writing something on her clipboard. She didn’t use the electronic system for these requests. But then, she’d only done it once before.

“More,” he said quietly. “I’m not out yet, but I don’t, uh, want to run out.” His box still had some condoms in it.

“Twice as many?” she asked.

“How many can you make?” Steve said.

“I’ll put it in the notes for the lab that I need a large batch,” she said, grinning.

“Wipe that grin off your face, doctor,” he said.

“You meet somebody you like?” she said.

“Is it that obvious?” Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck and looking wry.

“I’m happy for you,” Molly said. “You should have more fun, Steve. Give me your arm.”

“You don’t think I’m engaging in risky behaviors, do you?” he said, more as an observation than a question. She started drawing his blood.

“Steve, I made you twenty-five condoms almost a year ago and thought that would be a month’s supply, given your hormone levels,” she said. Steve’s libido--like his metabolism--clocked higher than the average man’s. “You’re not a womanizer if you’re still working on that box, I don’t care if Melissa Kelly called me this morning to demand your medical records. I’m sorry I couldn’t stall her by the way. You signed a release when you started, so I couldn’t legally.”

“It’s okay, Mol,” he said.

“I didn’t appreciate her tone,” Molly said.

“Fury was upset with me and it bled over, probably,” Steve said, trying to be fair. Dr. Kelly wasn’t all bad, even if she wasn’t his favorite person. She had been helpful with Bucky when Steve had needed to discuss his shock and anger and his hope that he could get his friend back.

 

He was still fundamentally uncomfortable with therapy in the workplace, though. People just _went_ to therapy now. It had been a culture shock for him that people expected him to just casually discuss the worst parts of his life: the lost future with Peggy, Bucky’s death, his illnesses growing up, losing his parents, seeing men killed in battle. He didn’t like thinking about all that, much less talking about it. In Brooklyn, he’d been taught that your problems were your own--you overcame them, you certainly didn’t pay to talk about them. They weren’t to be widely shared at work, either. Maybe you talked to your wife or your priest or a close friend, but not a therapist. When your best friend fell off a train, you drowned your sorrows, put your shield on, and went after the people who’d done it. It had been expected that if you felt poorly, you needed to get up and do something, not talk. Back in the old days, people used to say idle hands were the devil’s workshop. Of course, Steve could do plenty with his mind, even if his hands were busy.

 

“Also, I did point out to her that you have uncommonly strong willpower and personal restraint. You put as much testosterone and dopamine as you have in your body in most men, they’d be humping the printers on floor seven,” Molly said, drawing his attention back. Steve laughed.

“The printers?” he said. “Did you actually say that?”

“You know I did,” Molly said.

Steve laughed again and pulled out his phone. “You ever heard of The Oatmeal, Mol? My gir--friend,” he corrected, “showed me this funny cartoon about printers at dinner last night.” He showed her his phone screen.

“The one about how printers haven’t improved at all since the 80s?” she said.

“Uh-huh, yeah,” he said, beaming. “I thought it was just me.”

“No, Steve, everybody hates printers,” Molly told him. “Everybody.”

 

***

“You almost got arrested? I swear to Odin I’m going to slap him agai--” Jane told Darcy on the phone. She’d gone home to change before she went to Steve’s. Jane had called while she was trying to decide which bra to wear. Her cutest one was a little snug. It was a dilemma: pretty pattern, un-fun red marks when you took it off.

“Jane, no slapping Loki. Besides, I think he and Phil may be on the verge of a breakthrough,” Darcy said. “They’re taking the sad STRIKE guys to karaoke tonight with Skye.”

“Sad STRIKE guys?” Jane said in confusion.

“STRIKE is SHIELD’s version of an elite SWAT team or, like, Navy SEALs? Anyway, we met these guys who run the most elite one and they’re so sad, Jane. Like, all they do is gym, paleo, shoot. Things are so serious here. They’re, like, in awe of our pranks and games and stuff. I checked on our lab stuff today, too. I showed this Rumlow guy the mini-fridge--you know, the one I ordered for our Push Pops, they got it in today--and our prank stuff and I thought he was actually going to cry,” Darcy said. “He borrowed my sarcastic Magic 8 Ball.”

“Wait, why aren’t you going?” Jane said.

“I’m seeing that guy I hooked up with again tonight,” Darcy explained. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to out Steve as her hook up guy yet. They were going to talk about it.

“I thought you weren’t seeing him again?” Jane said.

“We ran into each other in an elevator,” Darcy said, deciding to go with a t-shirt bra in a fun color instead.

 

When she got to Steve’s apartment, she knocked on the door politely. He swung it open and gave her a long look. His t-shirt was ridiculously tight, she noticed. “Bra, huh?” he said.

“Did you want to sign mine now?” she asked.

 

***

 

“Steve, stop wiggling, I’m filling out this very important sex contract,” Darcy said, suppressing a laugh. She was straddling him on his couch in her leggings and bra. It had a tiny SR scrawled on the corner of one cup now. “I don’t want to lose my pen,” she said, flipping a page on her packet.

“Sometimes, these hips just have a mind of their own, doll. There’s no talking to ‘em,” Steve said, grinning. They’d been making out when Darcy had made another sex contract joke. Somehow, they had ended up printing out pages of a sex guide from _Cosmo_ ’s website. Now they were crossing things off and making funny margin notes, as if it was a real contract.

“I’m eliminating anything remotely _Fifty Shades_ -ish,” Darcy said efficiently. They’d watched those contract scenes first. She’d been joking about that while she was kissing him. Also, taking his shirt off, Erskine be praised. Darcy was beginning to think Steve’s biggest problem was that nobody made jokes around him. He was actually hilarious. Sly, but hilarious.

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said, wiggling again. He smirked and squeezed her.  

“Especially butt plugs,” Darcy said, a little vindictively.

“Please never say those two words together again,” Steve said, shuddering. “I can’t decide if I’m more upset about those bondage photos, the food thing, or the idea that the submissive is the one doing the ‘exploring.’ If Jane says that’s insulting to women, she’s right.”

“Yes, daddy,” Darcy said.

“Oh, God, I’m never going to live that down, am I?” Steve said, putting a hand over his face.

“Why’d you say it?” Darcy said. She was curious. He’d veered between laughter and outrage at the premise of a dominant-submissive contract. There had been a mini-rant that sounded suspiciously like a Captain America is Disappointed Speech after they watched the contract negotiation scene, actually. He didn’t _seem_ like a guy with a daddy kink. He seemed offended.

“A woman said it to me first. Then I grew a beard on vacation and another woman said it,” he said. “So many women are into that--”

“So soooo many?” she teased.

“Okay, not _that_ many, but I don’t really get it: when I tell people when I was actually born, they freak out a little, but that works? I thought it was the new thing?” Steve said.

“It kinda is, but I think we should skip it,” Darcy said, scrunching her face. He nodded and grinned. He liked the little faces she made.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he said seriously. “Ever.”

“I’d always tell you if I was, Steve,” she said comfortingly, patting his pecs. Those were impressive. It was all she could do not to hum “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition” when he’d taken his shirt off in the light. “I’m sure we can get this contract all ironed out,” she joked. She was still touching him when he spoke again.

“Put an extra star next to anything related to kissing,” he said, running a hand along her bare arm. Steve was very much into kissing, Darcy realized. He’d told her that was one of the disappointments of being Captain Hook-Up: a distinct lack of laying around on his couch and making out on Sunday afternoons.

“I did,” Darcy said. “See?”

“What’s wrong with that star?” he asked.

“Those are stripes. I did the stars and stripes,” she said. He laughed and put one arm behind his head. He kept the other on her hip.

“Get down here,” he said. “I want to kiss you again, doll.”

“Nope,” she said teasingly. “I’m very busy and important.” When she flipped a page, his eyes widened.

“What the heck is that?” he said, sitting up a fraction and squinting.

“I think the sex position cartoon people are upside down,” Darcy said quizzically. She flipped the page back. “Oh, wait, maybe not.” She tilted her head. “What do you think?” she asked Steve.

“I think that might kill you,” he said, taking her pen and drawing a big X.

“I appreciate your concern for my welfare,” she said.

“I’m not going to contractually tell you what to eat, though,” he said, shaking his head. “That sounds like a POW camp. I do have food, though. Do you want food? I feel like I should offer you food--”

“Before you take my pants off?” she said.

“Yes?” he said.

“But not my shirt?” she said, looking down at her exposed bra and belly.

“I don’t make the rules,” he said, taking her fake contract and pen and tossing them on the floor, so he could pull her down to kiss him.

“I thought you were in charge, Captain?” she teased. They’d been kissing for awhile when he unhooked her bra and slid the straps down her shoulders.

“There are some things I want to do with you, if you want,” Steve said quietly. He looked at her with a slightly naughty expression.

“What kinds of things?” Darcy asked, helping him unwedge the bra from between them.

“Could I watch while you touch yourself?” he asked.

“Now?” she said, pressing her breasts against him. He was so warm, she thought.

“Mmm-hmm,” Steve said, nuzzling her face. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, bracing herself against Steve’s chest with one arm, while she threaded her hand down her leggings.

He reached up to support her waist and Darcy opened her eyes. Steve was watching her intently. His eyes moved from the motions of her hand, up her chest, and to her face. He held her gaze for a moment. “Do you want to give me a hand?” she said. He grinned. She guided his hand down inside her underwear.

“Yeah. What do you like?” Steve asked. “Slow circles? Or maybe..?” He shifted his motion.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Mmm-hmm.” She moved rhythmically in response to his touch.

“Here,” Steve said gently withdrawing his hand for a moment. He rolled them both onto their sides, so that she was between him and the back of the couch. He wanted to be able to kiss her, too.

He slid a finger inside her, then a second. “That feels so good,” she told him.

“What about this?” he asked, touching her clit with his thumb. “Good? Or too much?”

“Good,” Darcy said in a moan. “Don’t stop.”

 

Steve watched her closely as she climaxed. When she opened her eyes, he was grinning. “You look pretty, doll.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have your heard "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition"? It's ridiculously catchy for a song that's basically about running into battle with your bullets: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HStrLiUKn6s
> 
> I sort of feel like the mainstreaming of therapy and talking about trauma in public would really shock someone who went into the ice in the 1945 and had Steve's socioeconomic background--that the dominant attitude back then was that you put that stuff in a box somewhere in your mind and didn't talk about it publicly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wouldn't be a Darcy fic without a Minion....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

“Who is the man?” Loki asked her, when she crawled in from Steve’s the next morning. Well, pre-morning, really. It was still dark out.

“What man?” Darcy said said innocently. Steve had dropped her off on his bike before heading into the office. It sounded like they had a mission. He’d kissed her a lot before they left the apartment and sworn he wouldn’t be gone “too long.” Jane might have interesting things to say about that, Darcy thought.  

“The man on the motorcycle,” Skye said, shuffling over to the coffee pot. “What? We were totally looking out the window. Who is he, Darce?”

“Mr. Nobody,” Darcy cracked, then walked into her bedroom and right back out again. “Would anyone care to explain why Brock Rumlow is asleep on my bed?”

“Too drunk to drive home last night,” Skye said, shrugging.

“We really didn’t think you’d mind,” Loki said. “You were so busy with this Mr. Nobody that you never responded to any of my text messages.” He was put out, Darcy could tell. He’d be even more put out if he knew it was Steve. He was already a wee bit jealous that Thor gave Steve attention, she thought.

“I see you and your resentment,” she told him.

“I do not understand your inference,” he said with asperity.

 

Darcy went back into her room. Thankfully, Rumlow was fully dressed and on top of the blanket, not under her personal covers. It looked like he’d walked in, kicked off his bulky tactical boots--did he wear those all the time, even with his jeans and t-shirt?--and collapsed on the bed. Sideways. He socked feet were sticking over the edge. Suddenly, his phone started to ring. It dawned on her that he was probably being called out on the same mission as Steve. “Rumlow,” she said. “Rumlow, wake up. Hellllllooo. Rumlow. Brock?”

 

He shifted, but didn’t wake. Darcy was cautious about waking up strangers, ever since she’d witnessed a girl in her (slightly rough, vaguely-remedial) math class wake up swinging once. She wasn’t going to lean over a STRIKE guy and startle him. She looked around the room. Jane had bought her a light-up, musical Stuart the Minion toy that had a handle. You pressed a button and Stuart sang different songs in Minion-ese. One of them sounded vaguely like Elvis. It was long enough. She stood a foot or two away and poked at him gently with Stuart. “Mmhhhmpf,” he said.

“Wake up,” she said. She hit Stuart’s button.

 _“Boola boola banyoooooo!”_ the Stuart toy sang. Darcy poked him again.

“Mhhhhmm?” Rumlow said.

“Your phone is ringing! Also, you’re in my bed!” Darcy said loudly.

“Huh?” he said, blinking.

 _“Loka de dah loka doughhhhhhhh!”_ Stuart sang.

“Why you pokin’ me, Lewis?” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. It stuck out at all angles. “What is that?”

“Stuart the Minion. Get up.”

“Why?” he said, taking Stuart and looking at him quizzically. “Light Up Talker,” he read aloud.

“Your phone,” Darcy said again. “Is. Ringing.”

“Ohhhh,” he said, rubbing his eyes and digging around for his phone in his jeans pocket. “Where you been?”

“I was out,” she said. He looked at her for a minute.

“You got sex hair,” he said, grinning. “You were out with that guy. Mr. Hook Up.”

 

She walked out of the bedroom with Rumlow on her heels, carrying his shoes. She needed coffee. Darcy was just in time to see Jack Rollins come out of Jane and Thor’s bedroom. Where Loki had been sleeping.  “We’ve got a call out, I brought our bags up from the trunk of their car,” Jack announced. He’d already changed into tactical gear.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Rumlow said. “Lewis just got back from...wherever. She won’t tell me. I did not give her that sex hair.”

“That’s totally what it looks like,” Skye said from the couch, jerking a thumb at Jack. “I slept out here.”

Loki handed Darcy a cup of coffee, then one to Jack.

“Thank you,” Darcy said politely. Loki nodded. He made excellent coffee.

“Thanks,” Jack said. They had a second of eye contact that told Darcy they’d be totally hooking up again.

“You always have to carry those clothes?” Darcy asked.

“Always on call, love,” Jack said.

“Is nobody gonna give me coffee?” Rumlow said.

“I’ll put yours in a travel mug,” Darcy said. “You can change in my bathroom.”

 

They ended up carpooling to Triskelion. Jack and Brock had left their official SHIELD SUV at work last night. Darcy wondered if Loki had planned that particular move. She was the only one strictly sober enough to drive, she thought. Loki didn’t have a legal driver’s license for this realm. “I should get one,” he said cheerfully, when she kicked him out of the driver’s seat of the Jeep. He’d magicked it back from the Charger to the Jeep so they could all fit. Roughly.

“Let’s take Loki to the DVM today, before Phil makes me leave,” Skye said, getting in up front with Darcy. The guys were all in the back.

“All righty,” Darcy said. “I think you might need to pass the test first though.” She glanced in the rearview mirror. “Did you steal my Stuart?” she said to Brock. He was playing with the toy.

“I just borrowed him,” he said. “You can put candy in the bottom?” He sounded delighted.

“He also borrowed your sunglasses, love,” Jack said. That was when she realized Rumlow was wearing her Ray Ban knockoffs. They had pink hearts on them.

“The light’s too bright,” Rumlow said.

“That’s fine, those are my back-ups,” she said, grinning. She kept a few pairs in the car because she hated to drive without sunglasses.

“He is ridiculous,” Skye muttered. “Whined about where you were all night.”

“Don’t make me get a restraining order, Rumlow,” Darcy told him, turning on her music. He must not have heard Skye, because he stopped making toy noises and looked up in alarm.

“What’d I do?” he said. In the backseat, Loki’s hand was just brushing the edge of Jack’s, Darcy noticed.

“This is a good song,” Jack said. “Maps” was playing.

“Postmodern Jukebox,” Darcy said. “They do retro covers of new songs.”

“What’d I do, Lewis?” Rumlow repeated.

“Play with your toy,” Loki said to him. “You talk too much.”

“Why you gotta be so mean, man?” Rumlow said.

“I’ll take you both to McDonald’s if you behave,” Darcy told him.

“Rumlow doesn’t eat that,” Jack said.

“Really?” Rumlow said simultaneously. “Can we? I haven’t been there since….it was probably 1991?”

 

***

 

One drive-thru and an exceptionally complex order--lots of hash browns--later, they made it to Triskelion. “Pull around to the ground-level helipad,” Rumlow told Darcy, shifting back into Commander mode. “Make a left,” he said, a hash brown in his hand. When she pullled around the semi-circle, she realized Steve and Natasha were standing near the quinjet, talking to Phil.

“Duck, it’s Phil,” Darcy told Skye. She complied immediately and crouched down in the front seat.

“Don’t tell him I’m here!” Skye said.

“Right, love, haven’t seen you,” Jack said to her. He looked at Loki and stole one of his hash browns. “I’ll see you ‘round, mate,” he said, winking. Rumlow had already climbed out and come around to Darcy’s side of the vehicle. He still holding Stuart and wearing her sunglasses. He handed the sunglasses back to her.

“Thank you,” Darcy said, holding her hand out for Stuart.

“Spend time with me when I get back?” he said. He had his cryptic STRIKE Commander face back on.

“I’m seeing somebody,” Darcy said.

“Hook Up Guy?” Rumlow said.

“He has a motorcycle,” Skye said. She had her head on her purse in her lap.

“Does he?” Jack said from the other side of the vehicle. He gave Loki a brief nod, said goodbye to them, and walked towards the quinjet.

“Bye, Jack!” Darcy said, waving.

“I never said it had to be romantic. I want you to teach me how to be fun, Lewis,” Rumlow said.

“Fun?” Darcy and Skye said in unison. Darcy thought Loki’s eyeroll was almost audible. Skye almost sat up, then remembered she was hiding.

“Yes, fun. Nobody’s fun around here. I’m holding him hostage ‘til you say yes,” Rumlow said, grinning and tucking Stuart in his pants pocket.

“You could be fired for kidnapping,” Darcy said, grinning back. He smirked slowly at her.

“But if you’re interested in sex, I don’t mind. If you want to see me and this other guy, consider your options--” Rumlow began.

“Oh God, will you go on before Phil catches me,” Skye complained.

“Rumlow,” Steve called out. “C’mon, you’re late.”

“It’s not like you need me,” Rumlow called back. “He knows I’m flirting here, he’s got ears like a damn bat,” he complained in a lower voice.

“You call that flirting? You just stole her Minion and offered to be her  second hook up option,” Skye said.

“It’s a conversational gambit,” Rumlow said. “Besides, you’ll have to talk to me again.”  He smiled at Darcy.

“I heard that bat thing, too,” Steve said, strolling over. Darcy turned and smiled at him.

“Morning, Cap,” she said.

“Miss Lewis,” he said, nodding. He lowered his voice and grinned down at Skye in the passenger seat. “Miss Skye. Loki. I’ll get Commander Rumlow out of your hair.”

“Thank you,” Skye said from below the threshold of the window. “You are a hero.”

“Very heroic,” Darcy said. “Also handsome in that uniform.” She winked at him and he did that ‘aw, shucks’ face.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said.

“You don’t have to rag me,” Rumlow said.

“I think they’re talking about me, Commander,” Steve said innocently.

“It’s an implied ragging, Cap,” Rumlow said.

“Oh?” Steve said.

“I’ll explain on the jet,” Rumlow said. They turned to leave. Steve had gotten a few feet away when Darcy leaned out the window and whistled.

“Just as patriotic from the back, Cap!” she called. He shook his head.

 

“You like Jack,” she said to Loki, as they drove Sleipnir II to the nearest DVM.

“He has his moments,” Loki said noncommittally.

“Your dad’s gonna have a goat,” Darcy said. “Odin’s not fond of Jane,” she explained to Skye.

“He will be now,” Loki said, a delighted gleam in his eye. “The faces Jack could make at my father would be delightful.”

“Magic up some ID documents and my light bill with your name for proof of address,” Darcy told him, as they pulled into the strip mall where the DMV was. “Like, an Asgardian birth certificate. We’ll tell ‘em you live with me and your brother and Janey.”

“What is a light bill?” he asked.

“I’ll hack yours,” Skye said, “so he knows what his version should look like.”

 

“This place is horrifying,” Loki said, once they were inside. “My jail cell was cleaner.”

“I’ll give you a wet wipe for if they want you to look into that screen thing for the street signs, I think your forehead might touch,” Darcy said.

“What?” he said. He looked at her in surprise.

“Mr. Odinson?” a DMV employee called.

 

“We could just make a fake one. Didn’t you do that for Thor?” Skye whispered, when he had given them a terrified look over his shoulder and then gone to take the test on a nearby computer.

“This is good for him, though,” Darcy said. She gave him a thumbs up. He looked at the mouse tentatively, then turned and hissed at her.

“There is something sticky on this table!” he said.

“Mr. Odinson, no talking during the test,” the DMV employee said.

 

***

 

Quinjets were usually quiet in flight. That meant that unusual noises registered to the people on board. _“Boola boola banyo!”_ the Stuart toy sang.

“What is that?” Natasha said, breaking away from her conversation with Steve to look at Rumlow in one of the bay seats. He was chuckling at the Minion. She peered at the yellow item in his hands.

“He borrowed one of Darce’s little children’s toys, “ Jack explained. “We went with Skye and Loki to karaoke last night, crashed at Lewis’s place.”

“You are playing with toys now?” Natasha said, walking over to him and crossing her arms. “I believe you are regressing, Rumlow.” He waved his hand dismissively.

“Nobody in this place has any sense of fun,” he said. “We’ve all had it beaten out of us by Fury and HR and those fuckers they hired to do SHIELD’s Q score or whatever the hell it was.”

“I think they paid those Q score fellas two hundred thousand dollars to survey the public and give us those little quizzes,” Steve said, shaking his head.

“I’m gonna be fun,” Rumlow said. “I’ve decided.”

“How you going do that, mate?” Jack said.

“I’ve asked Lewis to teach me,” Rumlow said.

“That right?” Jack said. He glanced at Cap out of the corner of his eye. Skye and Loki didn’t recognize the motorcycle. Jack--looking out Jane and Thor’s bedroom window--thought it looked familiar. But Jack wasn’t going to rat out Captain bloody America. Cap was grinning and looking at the ceiling.

“You think Darcy Lewis is fun?” Natasha said to Brock, tilting her head.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “She let me borrow her wiseass Magic 8-Ball, too.”

“I do not even know what that is,” Natasha said. “Is he holding a guitar?” She meant Stuart.

“I’m not sure if it’s a guitar or a ukulele. It’s difficult to tell scale. But you can put candy in the bottom,” he said.

“Oh,” Natasha said.

 

***

“You are not worried about your competition?” Natasha said to Steve teasingly. They were raiding an illegal arms dealer’s compound in the Pyrenees. The team had fanned out to locate a warehouse full of smuggled Chitauri weaponry on the grounds. The guns had been sold by HYDRA to raise funds. Steve and Natasha were trying to locate and detain the compound’s owner inside. Unfortunately, he had guards. Many guards.

“My competition? Whoever could you mean?” Steve said slyly, tossing the shield at two guards with a thwack.

“You are going to continue with this charade?” Natasha said.

“Secure those Chitauri guns, Romanoff. Then you can worry about my love life,” Steve said, wryly. He caught his shield as it returned from the end of the hallway.

“I only want the best for you, Steve,” Natasha said, kicking a guard who emerged from a room. She was startled when Steve tossed the shield in her direction. It whizzed over her and hit the tall man behind her.

“I’ve got it covered,” he said. “I might want your help with presents, though.”

“Really?” Natasha said in a delighted voice, body slamming another man. Suddenly, they heard a dog barking. “Oh, puppies,” she said. A guard with a German Shepard appeared at the end of the hallway. He let the dog go with a command in German.

“Fetch!” Steve yelled, also in German, as he tossed a handful of treats in the opposite direction. That distracted the dog long enough for his shield to hit the guard.

“That really is a clever idea,” Natasha said as they ran.

“Clint taught me!” Steve said, shutting a door so the dog couldn’t pursue them.

 

***

“Which one is the accelerator and which one is the brake again?” Loki asked. He’d gotten his learner’s permit at the DMV. They were practicing in the parking lot of a mall near the DMV office.

“He’s kidding, right?” Skye said. She looked dubiously out the back window towards the safety of a Starbucks. Skye really wanted a latte right now.

“Of course,” Darcy said. The Jeep lurched forward. “I think he’s kidding,” she amended.

“These pedals are confoundingly slippery,” Loki complained.

“We’re gonna die. Phil will be so mad at me if I’m dead,” Skye said, checking her seatbelt.

“I much prefer a horse,” he said. Darcy burst out laughing. “What?” he said, then his jaw snapped shut. “I am a prince of Asgard, I do not see why I am only allowed to drive under your supervision, anyway,” Loki said archly.

“What’s funny? I don’t get it,” Skye said. Darcy shook with laughter. “If we don’t die, can we get coffee?” she asked Darcy.

“That is not a question you will ever need to ask her. Stop laughing, I am attempting to concentrate,” he said.

 

***

When Steve got home from the mission in Spain that night, he went to the gym and then home. It wasn’t quite midnight. He was going to call Darcy. In the hallway, he heard music from his apartment. He had not left music on. He doubled back and climbed through the window. “Ahhhhh!” Darcy shrieked, throwing her popcorn bowl half in the air. She was sitting on his couch.

“It’s you,” he said, grinning. “I thought you were here to kill me or something?”

“So you climbed in through the window with your shield?” Darcy asked, as he brushed a few pieces of popcorn aside, plopped next to her on the couch, and kissed her nose.

“Seemed like a good idea. Did you break in?” he said.

“Noooooooooo. I thought you invited me?’ Darcy said. “Skye and I had near death experiences teaching Loki to drive”--Steve shook his head wryly--”and when we got home, someone had slipped an envelope with a key under my door? You didn’t do that?” she asked, gesturing to the envelope on his coffee table. It had a note scrawled inside the envelope flap: _Home tonight. Stop by._

“That,” Steve said coolly, “is the handwriting of a Russian meddler.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll give you the key back, I just need to get it off my keychain,” Darcy said.

“Nope,” he said, grinning, “you’re not taking anything off your keychain….Other things, though, you can take those off.”

“Awwww,” she said, kissing him. “You’re sweet.” He had pulled her shirt off when he stopped and laughed. “What?” she said.

“You got popcorn in your cleavage,” he said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuart the Light Up Talker is real: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTJdHHA0Lxs


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leave the gun, take the Minion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

Darcy woke up to Steve kissing her neck. “Hey, that tickles!” she said. 

“I know,” he said. He already had a major 5 o’clock shadow happening; needing to shave frequently was part of the serum deal.

“Bad Steve,” she said. “Very naughty.”

“It’s not the naughtiest I’ve ever been…” he said with a mock-innocent face.

“No?” she said.

“Can’t tell you about that, though, it’s classified,” he said.

“Uh-huh. What are you doing today? Do you have to work?” she asked him.

“Nope. Already got the day off, since I knew you were free. I was thinking later you could lay on my couch in your silly socks--”

“I object to that characterization of my pancake socks,” Darcy said, peering down so she could remember which of her fun socks she’d worn.

“Noted,” he said, nodding seriously. “You can lay on my couch in your  _ not at all _ silly socks and I can kiss you a lot. How’s that sound for a plan?”

“Excellent. I just have one addendum,” she said.

“Yeah?” he said.

“I want toast,” she said. “And coffee.” 

“I’m on it,” he said. He got up, humming to himself. She thought it might be Glenn Miller. 

“Hey, Steve?” she called out.

“Yeah, honey?” 

“Don’t shave yet,” she said. “I kinda like the stubble.”

“You sure you don’t want pancakes?” he said back cheerfully.

“Oooh, yeah, if that’s an option,” Darcy said. She sat up, wrapped herself in his blanket, and padded out to the living room. 

“Whatcha doing?” he asked.

“I want to watch Captain America make me pancakes in his boxers. I think it counts as a big life event,” Darcy told him seriously. He laughed. Her phone--left on Steve’s coffee table--rang. “I don’t recognize this number,” Darcy said, bending down to pick it up. “Hello?”

“Lewis, it’s me,” he said.

“How did you get this number, Brock Rumlow?” Darcy asked. She grinned at Steve.

“I bribed Jack, who got it from Loki,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“Watching a handsome man make me breakfast,” Darcy answered honestly. In the kitchen, Steve was was making pancake batter from freaking scratch. Darcy usually just bought those shake and pour jars and put fun stuff in--chocolate chips, sprinkles, extra vanilla, pecans. Steve grinned at her and perfectly cracked an egg on the edge of the bowl, like he was Julia actual facts Child. Darcy clapped. “10 out of 10, babe!” she called.

“What is that?” Rumlow asked.

“I’m applauding him for being able to properly crack an egg, it’s impressive,” Darcy said.

“Oh,” Rumlow said. “Give me and Stuey something to do. I’m bored. I’ve been to the gym already.”

“Okey-dokey,” Darcy said. “Make Loki get one of my books for you. Keri Smith’s--”

“Hold on, lemme get a pen,” he said in a serious voice. Darcy held in a giggle. “Start again," he said.

“Get Keri Smith’s  _ How to Be An Explorer of the World _ . Loki can give you my copy,” she repeated. “There are things to do in there.”

“Any other ideas?” he asked.

“Say yes to anything anyone suggests today?” she said. “Also, take Stuey. I like the nickname.”

“He needed one,” Rumlow said. “Say yes to anything? Got it,” he said.

“I think you should go to museum,” she told him.

“A museum?” he whined. “Lewis, museums are bori--”

“Ach, you promised to say yes,” she scolded. “Get the book and go to a museum. Any museum. Take the Minion.”

“Then what?” he said.

“I dunno,” she said. “Whatever floats your boat, pal.”

  
  


She was sprawled on Steve’s couch drinking coffee when her phone rang again. “You think he’s having a moment with your Minion?” Steve called.

“Nope. This is Jane, I’m going to answer,” she told Steve.

“Okay, doll,” he said. 

“Hiiiiii, Jane,” she said. Steve executed a particularly neat pancake flip and she gave him a thumbs up. He beamed back at her.

“Darce,” Jane said. “I called the apartment and some Australian guy told me you were out?”

“Oh, that was Jack. He’s Loki’s new boyfriend I think? One of the STRIKE guys,” Darcy said. Steve raised an eyebrow and Darcy grinned at him. She’d forgotten to tell Steve.

“Ohhhh,” Jane said. “Is he nice? He sounded really nice.”

“Super nice, but totally scary facial expressions. I’m hoping they stay together long enough for Jack to meet Odin. I want to be there,” Darcy said. “Do not leave me behind for that one, okay?”

“I won't. You’re at that guy’s, aren’t you?” Jane whispered.

“Yes. Jane, why are you whispering?” Darcy asked.

“I don’t know,” Jane admitted. “It seemed like I ought to?”

“You don’t have to whisper,” Darcy told her, laughing.

“You’re okay, right?” Jane said.

“I’m fine. Totally fine,” she said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively at Steve as he came to get her coffee cup. 

“Refill?” he mouthed. She nodded.

“I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you--” Jane began worriedly.

“Give me the phone,” Steve said.

“What?” Darcy said, putting her hand over the mouthpiece.

“Let me talk to her?” he said.

“Okaaaaay,” Darcy said. “Jane, I’m passing you to him.”

“What? Why--” Jane began. Steve took the phone from her and carried Darcy’s cup into the kitchen.

“Hi, Jane,” he said. “This is Steve. Steve Rogers. Yes,  _ that  _ Steve.” He pulled the phone away from his ear. “She just made a noise I think only me and dogs can hear,” Steve said to Darcy, chuckling.

“Do you need me to talk her down?” Darcy asked. He shook his head.

“Jane, breathe,” Steve said calmly. “There you go. Tell Thor to get you a nice brown paper bag or something. Yes. Uh-huh. Actually, I didn’t tell her I was Captain America at first--ouch, Jane, that’s loud. Darce, she wants to know if she should start calling me Dirtbag Captain America now?”

“Oh, what an excellent idea! Tell her yes,” Darcy said.

“I didn’t know she could swear so impressively,” he said dryly.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said.

“I’m Dirt-fucking-bag Captain America now?” he said, eyebrows raised. “Wait, she’s laughing.”

  
  


“I can’t believe you told her,” Darcy said, as they were eating pancakes on the couch.

“I didn’t realize she was that worried,” he said.

“She’s a fretter. She frets. It’s partially my fault,” Darcy said.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve said, stealing a bit of her pancake. He ate faster than her. “How come?”

“When we were in New Mexico, we got like 5 stolen channels with her astro antenna and I got her way into  _ Dateline  _ and  _ 48 Hours _ in our downtime. There wasn’t much to do in Puente Antiguo…” Darcy said, scrunching her nose. “Now she thinks all boyfriends but Thor are potential murder-boyfriends.”

“I hope she doesn’t think I’m a murder boyfriend,” he said.

“Of course not, you’re Captain America,” she said. “Hmmm,” Darcy said, looking at her plate.

“What?” Steve asked.

“I think I need to bring sprinkles next time. Pancakes are better when they’re funfetti,” she told him.

“Yes,” he said. “See? I can say yes to things, too.” He looked at her wickedly.

“I’m gonna need you to say yes to  _ anythiiiiiing  _ I ask,” she teased. She wasn't serious.

“Yes,” he said, kissing her mouth with his own. He tasted like pancake syrup and butter. Then he started trailing syrup-sweet, slightly sticky kisses down her throat. “Yes.”

“Mmmm,” Darcy said, swallowing as he slid his hands under her shirt.

“Yes,” Steve repeated.

“Anything I ask?” she said.

“Yes. Especially that thing on page twelve of our contract,” he said. “Make me do that.”

 

“Five more minutes,” he said sleepily, throwing one of his legs over her thigh. “Just five more.”

“Steve, I have to go home and do laundry,” Darcy said, trying to wiggle free. His grip on her was solid.

“Why?” he said. “I like you better without clothes.”

“Captain, unhand my left breast. That’s an order,” she told him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sighing.

***

 

Eventually, she pried herself out of Steve’s arms, went home, and then checked on the lab the next day. Five minutes after they’d arrived, she and Loki had company.

“Lewis,” Rumlow said, pulling up a rolling chair and straddling it, “teach me some pranks or something.”

“I want Stuey back,” she told him.

“I’ll bring him back tomorrow, he’s napping at my place,” he said. In the corner of the lab, Loki rolled his eyes. Jack was sitting next to him, reading. They were doing the whole, ‘we’re not together,’ we just sit together in silence’ routine.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said.

“We were busy yesterday. Went on a classified museum mission, took one of your book walks, did some push ups,” Rumlow said. Darcy grinned.

“What’d you see on your walk?” she asked him. A part of Keri Smith’s instructions were about observing little things around you and documenting them.

“Check these out,” he said. He reached into the bag he had on his shoulder. “I got these for you. Fall leaves.” He spread out a range of red-orange leaves. “And I took a bunch of leaf photos,” he said, pulling out his phone to show her. 

“Cool. Lemme see ‘em,” she said. She was scrolling through the photos when she realized he’d crossed his arms over the chair back and was gazing at her with an oddly...puppy-like expression? “Rumlow, whatcha doing?” Darcy asked.

“That was really fun,” he said. “I thought I would feel stupid, but I walked around the museum for twenty minutes and then I did the leaf thing and it made me feel so fucking calm,” he said. “I slept really well last night. I think you should start a group, Lewis.”

“A group?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Like, tell people how to have fun and how to be calmer and stuff, too. Give ‘em books and tasks. What do you want me to do tomorrow? Imagine if you just gave me stuff to do everyday, you know?”

“Brock, I think that’s a cult,” she told him.

“I would follow you,” he said. “Tell me what to do.”

“It’s really a pity she’s already seeing someone,” Loki piped up dryly. “You could have an acolyte for a lover. Those are always fun.”

“You’ve had a sex acolyte?” Darcy asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, many,” he said. “They tend to get a bit obsessive, but it’s fun at the start.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun at the end,” Darcy said.

“Your problem is that you’ve been raised in a culture that is entirely too monogamous,” Loki told her. “And he’s obviously more repressed that you, if he’s looking for life lessons.” He looked at Rumlow.

“Hey, I get mine,” Rumlow said. “It’s just…I dunno.”

“Not emotionally fulfilling,” Jack said suddenly, “because we have to lie about so much of our lives that there’s no intimacy.”

“What Jack said,” Rumlow told her.

“Oh, yeah,” Darcy said, nodding. “That’s totally my first date conversation problem.”

“What do you do about sex?” Rumlow asked.

“I don’t talk about work, Jane, Thor, or SHIELD,” she said dubiously. “So, there’s not a problem.”

“Huh,” Rumlow said. “What do you talk about with this guy?”

“Socks, funfetti pancakes, our fake sex contract…” Darcy mused out loud.

“Socks?” Brock said. “What do you do with socks?” 

“She wears them, you idiot,” Loki said dryly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pancake socks: https://sockdrawer.com/collections/best-sellers-fun-socks/products/pancake-awesome-food-socks-socksmith


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you reach the end, do you arrive at the next beginning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos, y'all are the best.

Steve and Darcy were hanging out at his place two nights before Jane and Thor arrived in DC. Jane had been pestering Darcy with texts about double-dates with her and Thor when they got back. Darcy knew without asking that Steve wouldn’t want to do that. Like, at all. She sighed. “What is it?” he said.

“Nothing,” she said. She texted back a reply about taking Jack and Loki instead.

“Tell me,” he said.

“Jane wants us to double-date,” she explained.

“Darce,” he said, “you know we can’t. Someone would take a photo and it would be all over work….”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I know. It’s okay, Steve.” It was okay. She could handle this for awhile.

“You’re too good to me. The things you’ve got to put up forever with when it comes to me,” he said sympathetically. “I don’t know how we’ll handle the Christmas parties next year. We’ll have to pretend to be acquaintances, you know?”

“Next year?” Darcy said, startled.

“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t want to be with anybody else, Darce.”

“But you don’t want--” she stopped. _He never wanted to go public,_ it dawned on her. “Steve,” she said. “Would you ever want a public girlfriend?”

“God no, the paparazzi would harass you, you’d never get any peace, this is much better,” he said, rubbing her back. “I could do this for years and years.”

“Years,” Darcy said, trying to smile. The thing was, she hadn’t bet on years. She’d assumed either a short fling or going casually public after a few months of dating. Slowly, of course, but not that they’d be pretending not to know each other well twelve months from now. “That’s what you want?” she said.

“Yeah, why?” he said.

“I hadn’t imagined it being a secret for years,” she said.

“How long?” he asked.

“I don’t know, a few months.”

“I thought I made things pretty clear,” Steve said quietly.

“You told Jane,” Darcy pointed out. “Voluntarily.”

“She’s your best friend, it’s different,” Steve said. “I didn’t plan on anyone else knowing. Do you know what the media would do to you if we went on double dates with Thor and Jane? We’d be on the cover of those trashy magazines, the blogs, the _Today_ show. Darce, your life would be impossible. They’d crawl all over your social media, your personal life--”

“So, you’re not acknowledging me to protect me?” she said.

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Steve said, looking relieved. “It’s for you as much as me.”

“I see,” Darcy said.

“You’re upset,” he said.

“I don’t know, Steve. Years and years? Never going out to dinner or meeting my family? People will think you’re my fictional Canadian boyfriend!” she said, trying to laugh naturally and failing. “That I’m making you up!”

“So?” he said. “We’re real. Us, we’re real. Who cares about the rest of the world. It’s just chatter and gossip and---”

“I live in this world,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. He flinched.

“I--I--Steve, I want a future,” Darcy said. “I might hate dating, but I want a future with someone where I know they have my back. Where they meet my family and we go to movies and stuff.” He looked at her, then shook his head.

“I don’t think meeting your family and taking you to the pictures ought to be comparable,” he said sharply. Her _this world_ remark had wounded him in a soft place; she was right, though. He wasn’t of this world. He was still a little in his old one. That made this one easier to eschew and scorn.

“They aren’t, I just think it would be nice to have both,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he said. He had gone all tense and wasn’t looking at her.

“Steve--” she began.

“Let’s table this, okay? We can discuss it another time,” he said. She realized he was using what Sharon Carter called his _hello, neighbor_ voice. Cold and distant. Faintly scolding.  

 

That night was the first time they didn’t have sex. Instead, they lay silently in bed. It felt tense to Darcy. “Darce,” he said suddenly, “I’m not sure I can be what you need. Not now. Maybe never. The guy who wanted a home and a family, he went into the ice and I’m not certain that I’m him anymore.”

“Okay,” Darcy said quietly. “I understand.” She did understand, honestly. He was a trauma victim. He was juggling celebrity, personal loss, and out of time-ness all at once. She didn’t blame Steve. But she didn’t think she could do secrets for years. She was not secretive. Natasha, she could do secrets, not Darcy. Just because he was this way, well, it was like she’d told Jane after that first night with him: she was still herself. She still wanted Chocolate Cheerios and Audrey Hepburn movie marathons, even after an affair with a hot stranger. Lying in the dark, she made a decision.

 

In the morning, she gathered her things, kissed his cheek, and said, “it was a lovely two and a half weeks, Steve.”

He didn’t stop her from going. He didn’t approach her at work, either. It was like a dream that never seemed quite real to Darcy afterwards.

 

***

**_Several weeks later_ **

 

“Man, that was a weird movie,” Brock said to Darcy. They had gone to see _Belle du Jour_ on impulse. Darcy had only seen bits and pieces. “People act like it’s so sexy, but that was disturbing. I’m disturbed,” he said. Darcy laughed.

“Sorry. It _is_ a weird movie,” she admitted. They were waiting for Jane and Thor in the lobby afterwards. They’d been smart and gone to something fun.

“We should have seen _The Lego Movie_ with them,” he said. “You want some more Raisinettes and a refill?”

“Sure,” she said. When he returned, he handed her the drink and the box. “Let’s split them. Catherine Deneuve was pretty, though,” Darcy suggested.

“But her boyfriend’s teeth,” Brock said shuddering.

“True that,” Darcy said. “I thought he had a grille at first. Took me fifteen minutes to realize those were just teeth.”

“Why would she even want him? The whole thing’s just exploitative and weird,” Brock said. “Why are all these sexy thrillers so disturbing, the more you think about them?” he asked.

“Ummm, sexism?” Darcy suggested. He nodded seriously. Jane had taken Brock under her wing, too. She had him reading feminist blogs. It was charming to hear him explain purity culture to some bro from STRIKE Delta in tones that mixed horror and _you won’t believe this shit._ He’d been particularly freaked out by the father-daughter purity ball portrait photos he’d seen online.

“It’s messed up,” he muttered. “Raisinette?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She genuinely liked Brock Rumlow. Plus, he would go anywhere with her—foreign films, odd restaurants, kooky landmarks. He was interested in anything she mentioned. It was strangely flattering to have a macho protégée in fun from the Bronx, like being adored by a usually-terrifying pit bull. He’d even brought her toys like a puppy: coloring books, Minions, and today, a little Joy from _Inside Out_ plush, presently tucked in her purse. He’d still refused to return Stuey though. He claimed they had more adventures left to do. “Brock?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to go with us when Jack meets Odin next week?” Darcy asked.

“Hell yes,” he said. “Jack’s been practicing his scariest faces. I wanna see that like I wanted to shoot Pierce.”

“Cool,” she said.

“Lewis?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah?”

“It was Cap, wasn’t it? The guy who wouldn’t go public with you? I’m sorry. That was fucked up. Something’s wrong with him, you know,” Brock said in a rush. “I don’t get it. It’s not you. You’re fucking great _and_ pretty,” She laughed. He sounded exactly like a foul-mouthed ten year old trying to boost her ego—all innocent, yet profane. He said the swear words without really meaning them.

“It’s no big deal. It just didn’t work out. I’m really not upset. How did you know?” Darcy asked.

“Jane calls him Dirtbag Captain America when you’re not in the room,” he said.

“Oh, well, yeah. But he has his reasons. The media, all that,” she said.

“That’s stupid, you could’ve handled it,” he said loyally. “We could have given the paparazzi Rasinettes or some shit.”

“That’s a good idea. We should buy candy for when we think Thor and Jane are going to be mobbed, try it out,” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “But we’ll have to hide the candy from Thor.”

“Can I put it at your place?”

“If Stuey agrees, yeah,” he said, grinning.

 

***

“Do you mind if I join you?” the handsome man asked her. He'd emerged from one of the curtained booths to walk over to her table. He was gorgeous. Blond, fit, the works.

“Sure,” she said nervously. “I’m Catherine. I think I’ve been stood up by my date tonight.”

“Catherine, I’m Steve,” he said politely. “His chair—?” Steve said, not wanting to assume she was straight.

“Yes,” she said,

“His foolish mistake, too,” Steve said, catching a Bistrot Cacao waiter. Catherine was a very pretty blonde. She smiled up at Steve hopefully.

 

“Do you come here often?” Catherine asked, after they’d ordered and were eating. He seemed to know the whole staff. He was a little mysterious. Catherine found it sexy.

“Sometimes,” he said cryptically. “I prefer it with a beautiful woman, though.” She blushed. 

"You're very handsome yourself," she said.

"Thank you," he told her. "But there's a question I have?"

"Yes?" Catherine asked, leaning forward a little.

“Catherine, would you be interested in coming home with me tonight?” he asked.

 

 

The End

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably my first ambiguous, not HEA ending. I wanted to do something more tense and weird and uncomfortable, like the end of those thrillers (the clue was always in the title) and have them end up in roughly the same places they were at the beginning, with Steve picking up women and Darcy--who is my poster girl for resilience--moving on gracefully.


End file.
